Hermione's Room
by trysomethingnew
Summary: Long before she met the wizards and witches who looked down upon her, Hermione was teased because she was different. Now she's ready to take on the world, and get back at those that hurt her, starting with a certain blonde wizard. Slight Herm/H D/Herm
1. Chapter 1

What he said:

"You're worthless, a filthy mudblood; I wouldn't be caught dead looking at your ugly face."

What she heard:

"Worthless… Mudblood… Ugly face."

Those were the words that haunted her for the next four years, as they were close to those that had haunted her for nearly eleven years before. They reminded her of home—pleasant thought, isn't it—and the tortured childhood she'd wanted so desperately to leave behind.

It wasn't easy to make friends when she was teased by the kids in her neighbourhood for her overbite, being called "buck-tooth" and "beaver." Instead, the girl found companionship in the books she read, her vocabulary growing as her hunger for the words that were her only friends increased. In the evenings when her mother and father hosted parties, the girl watched her parents socialise with their friends, seeing the joking way they treated each other and showing her a whole new way to use her adult vocabulary. When she went to school, she spent the breaks with her teachers, who spoke to her about everything and anything, and treated her with the respect one adult would give to another. With this she added a maturity far beyond her years to the skills she'd already learned by being avoided by children her own age, though it could never take the place of having friends.

Then, something miraculous happened. During all her quiet and lonely hours that even her books could not cure, Hermione Granger found she could do magic. Small things, like making her few dolls—given to her as Christmas gifts from far away relatives who didn't know or care what she really liked—move and seem to speak with her; a few birds hatched in a nest on her bedroom windowsill, that before no bird had even perched on; her mother even caught her with a jar of cookies that had seemed to appear out of nowhere.

When her letter from Hogwarts came, the girl was ecstatic. Though she knew she would miss her mother and father very much, Hermione wanted nothing more than to leave behind her childhood "friends" and try to make new ones. Her father had always told her to "put your self out there, and speak your mind" and she had every intention of doing so, but not without some idea of what she was going to say. She had just learned there was a whole other world of magic with hundreds of years of history, and since she knew none of it, she wanted to learn.

The history books of this hidden world—once Hermione got a hold of them—were like precious oysters, waiting to be pried open, and their treasures revealed. The fantastical events were so much like the storybooks she'd read her whole life, she became entranced. She devoured every scrap of information she could get her hands on, not only for the amazement of all of it, but she was determined to learn in the few months before school the whole of what her classmates must have known all their lives. She read and read and studied until there wasn't a single conversation—she thought—that Hermione couldn't contribute to properly.

All too soon, she was saying good-bye to her parents on a magic platform at King's Cross station on September 1st. Hermione hugged them both fiercely, promising to write and make many friends to tell them about when she came home for Christmas holidays.

"Remember what I said, Hermione," Her father started, and the girl laughed, cutting him off.

"Put your self out there, don't be afraid to speak your mind." She said, "I remember, dad."

"I'll miss you dear, please don't get too old without us, okay?" Her mother was starting to cry, bringing Hermione close to tears as well.

"I'll try." She would have said something more, but was interrupted when the last whistle for boarding blew, and she kissed the two one last time before running onto the old red train.

As the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station, all the other first-years leant out the windows of their cars, calling out last-minute farewells to their families. Hermione felt she'd said all she could, so she waited patiently for the two other girls, bouncing a bit on her seat with excitement.

"My big brother told me there's no roof in the Main Hall, and that when it rains, they hold umbrellas above the tables!" one said to the other, ignoring Hermione completely.

Wanting to be part of the conversation, Hermione piped up, "It's only an enchantment, didn't you know? It's supposed to show the weather outside, but not actually let it affect us."

The other girl giggled. "Yeah Pansy, next you'd say we have to wear lightning rods on our hats during a storm!" she teased her friend, who didn't seem too pleased with being made a fool of.

"Who made you the expert? Do you have any big brothers or sisters that went to Hogwarts, or did your mummy and daddy tell you everything?" She practically hissed at Hermione, who stuttered, a little afraid of this girl who she'd tried to make friends with.

"N-no, my mum and dad don't really know anything about the wizard world." She admitted shyly. "I read about it in my history books."

The scary girl laughed then, and her eyes took on a feral gleam when she looked at the girl. "Hear that, Terra, her parents are muggles. No doubt she's a bookworm because she knows she doesn't deserve to know magic without them."

The one called Terra simply nodded, smiling meanly. "If I'd known I'd have to sit next to a mudblood, I'd never have gotten on the train."

Almost all of the books Hermione had read mentioned the term "muggles" and she was by now clear on the meaning. The name that girl, pansy, called her; she'd read it only a few times, in the stories that scared her, the ones that made her want to stay away from the school and everything about her magic. "Mudblood" was a nasty thing, a disgusting way of saying that someone had no magic in their blood before them, the things that evil wizards had done to muggle-born people, including children had given Hermione nightmares for a week, and her mother had almost kept her home because of them. But the girl had insisted that those kinds of people didn't exist anymore, that the wizard world was at peace and people there were open-minded. That someone would call her that in such a tone, just a little girl on the train for her first year of school shook the young witch to her core, and she felt tears threaten her sight. She stood up and ran from the compartment, into the car bathroom where she could wipe her tears.

When she finally felt calm enough to leave the cubicle, Hermione realised she'd left her trunk in the compartment with the mean girls. She didn't want to go back there, but she had to at least change into her robes before they got to the school. The girl wondered if everyone in the school really was still like that, and would hate her because she wasn't like them; she wanted so badly to be liked instead of avoided or teased like she did back home.

Her fear wasn't as important as her curiosity though, and the girl had to do what she promised her dad. Boldly, she walked up to a boy who looked about her age, and asked; "Would you hate me if I told you my parents weren't wizards?"

The boy looked a bit flabbergasted. "Umm, not really, but could you do me a favour? I'm looking for my toad, my gram gave him to me as a present and I seem to have lost him."

Hermione smiled broadly, satisfied that her instincts had been right. "I'll help you look, I just want to change into my robes quickly." He nodded, and let her into her now empty compartment while he waited outside.

She was excited she'd come close to making a friend, and finding out that not everybody here was prejudiced about heritage. She learned the boy's name was Neville, and the toad's Trevor. She met a lot of different people while asking around, even probably the most famous name she'd read. Harry Potter was a first year too, and Hermione felt kind of nervous being around him, so she babbled a bit with him and the redheaded boy he was sitting with. She didn't really remember his name, but she did remember he seemed kind of grumpy and dirty, so the girl decided to avoid him if she could help it, but she really did want to get to know Harry better, since it didn't say anything about his age or where he'd been living the last eleven years.

When the train finally stopped and Hermione stepped onto the boats that took the first years across the lake to the castle, she was mystified. She knew the school was a castle, but really had no idea how huge and fantastic it would be. Sitting in the same boat with Neville, Harry Potter and the redheaded boy, she stared out across the dark water in awe, her mind reeling as all the facts she'd absorbed collided with what she was seeing, and it made her dizzy. Most of the next few hours were a bit of a blur, but she remembered sharing a house with the three boys she'd almost befriended, and an encounter with a boy version of Pansy Parkinson (the mean girl from the train), both of whom were now in Slytherin, with a bunch of other slightly nasty looking people.

The boy's name had been Draco Malfoy, and looked down at the redhead while trying to make friend with Harry Potter. He never looked at her, even though she couldn't really stop staring, his blonde hair was slightly alluring, as it reminded her of a boy she used to like from home, but who always ran away from her after calling her names and making her cry. Hermione knew she shouldn't like such a boy who seemed to be so mean, and she had to promise herself she wouldn't think about him and get herself hurt. As an eleven year old girl, she knew she had plenty of time to get to know people, and maybe one day have a boyfriend—she hadn't even gotten her period yet!

Anyways, if she could make friends and learn things to live with her magic, it didn't matter if this boy ever looked in her direction. Hermione Granger was strong and smart, and she knew it. This year was going to be a good one, it was going to be the beginning of the best years of her life, she promised herself, as she drifted into a heavy slumber that night.


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, or any of the characters that DO belong to JK Rowling! Though I warn some that this Fan fiction follows as closely as possible to the plot of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, which also belongs to JK Rowling. BTW, for you who thinks this is from someone named Jo, I'm sorry to disappoint, but Jo was my partner for my other fanfic, this is my profile, and this is my story!

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Familiar music woke Hermione, and she didn't waste time in jumping up to get a spot in the bathroom in the girls' dorm. On her way to the door, she waved her wand, efficiently tuning her alarm clock to silent._ Thank god no one's up yet, I'd never get in here,_ she thought wryly. She brushed her teeth and her hair after changing out from her pyjamas with her conjured uniform to keep her spot. Then, she looked into the mirror, ready for the daily ritual she'd finally perfected over the last four years at Hogwarts.

The first part was getting over the surprise she felt every time she saw how much she'd grown since her first year. She'd hit puberty two and a half years ago, and it blew her mind how, well, _curvy_ she'd gotten in so short a time. Her breasts were probably the best shaped and perky of her year, and definitely not the smallest. Even some of the girls from Beauxbatons she'd caught looking at her jealously. Since her third year she'd fixed her little overbite problem, and finally managed to find a way to smooth her frizzy curls to look shiny and luxurious.

The next step was to remind herself that looks weren't important, and mentally rehearse the entire set of runes professor Babbling had taught them last week. She was sure there'd be a pop quiz on them this Monday, and had been even reading ahead two chapters in their textbook. There was also the five foot long essay on Baruffio's Brain Elixir for profesor Snape that she thought she ought to add another ten inches to her conclusion—never mind that Snape had only insisted on two feet of parchment. She knew she would get perfect on the test, but the assignment was another matter, one which brought her ritual to a close.

The final step was preparation. Through all the growing up and excelling in all subjects she came across, Hermione had been plotting revenge. Since her fist year at Hogwarts, meeting and automatically being hated by almost all Slytherins, she'd been quietly planning to show them all how "worthy" she really was. She was determined to prove that she had more magic in her little finger than they had in their whole "pureblood" bodies. By proving it to the arrogant Big-Head of House, she could show it to the lot of them. But there were two slytherins that had played a special part in the young witch's torture, and she had even more special plans for them.

Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy had to be taken down. Humiliated and hurt, dragged to their knees, where they would beg for her forgiveness and permission to kiss her superior feet. She knew it, and revelled in the idea before allowing her emotions to faze back into their seemingly innocent state.

Having mentally prepared for the day and finished aplying such a small amount of makeup that it looked utterly natural—though flawless—Hermione slipped out of the bathroom just in time, barely avoiding the crush of girls stampeding for the bathroom, who all seemed to wake up at the exact same time, _every day_. _They're still falling over themselves for those Durmstrang boys, especially Victor Krum_, she thought, shaking her head. What was so great about a meatheaded Quidditch player anyways? She couldn't see anything special about him, not like Harry Potter, her hero and best friend of the past four years. Though it was obvious how much Ginny Weasley fancied him, how much Ronald Weasley—the redhead with the dirt on his face—fancied Hermione, and how much Harry himself fancied the Ravenclaw girl, Cho Chang, who was crushing on Cedric Diggory. It's just plain to say the whole thing was just a huge mess of teenage hormones and drama. The point was, she couldn't even get close to that complicated world, since a boyfriend was out of the question at this time in her life, anyways.

The classes she had passed quickly, and afterwards she was going to study in the library until dinner—"study" meaning trying to figure out a good way to bring Malfoy and in turn Parkinson down. Once she'd gotten there, it was a relief to escape the crazyness that had taken hold of the school the last two months, the hallways full of gossiping girls like chickens clucking about boys, boys, boys. The library was always a silent place to think, or else Madame Pince would have a coniption.

Hermione was deep in concentration, staring at a finished essay in pretense that she was atually doing work, when she jumped nearly a foot in the air. The scraping of a chair she'd barely noticed, even the person who'd at down next to her did so with such silent grace she couldn't even tell there was anyone there, until she felt a tap on her shoulder, and had to resist the urge to scream. Turning slowly, Hermione came face to face with the masculine, graceful, attractive, meat-headed Quidditch seeker Victor Krum. In the library. Less than a foot from her face.

"Um, can I do something for you?" She said after she moved her head back a bit, blinking. If it'd been Ron or Harry she probably would have pushed them away and told them to write their own essays or do their own assignments. The fact that Victor Krum, a Durmstrang and Triwizard champion on top of everything else, was trying to get her attention threw her off for a second. _Is that why he's here? To ask for help with his homework? Well, I'm not about to help some thickheaded athlete maintain his grade point average, no matter how big his biceps are. _

He looked at her intesely, staring almost rudely. Then, as if he'd made some sort of decision, grunted and said in a rough russian accent, "nothing, forget it."

Hermione expected him to leave after that, but he didn't. He just sat there, and she couldn't tell if he was still watching or not, because she'd turned back to her essay, which she decided wasn't good enough and scrapped to start anew. His presense was still there, as distracting as it was, and she couldn't let him just sit there watching her—if he was watching her—without a reason why. She turned to him sharply, expecting him to jump a bit at being caught, which of course he didn't. Victor Krum was good at doing what she didn't expect of him.

"Seriously, what are you doing in here? Don't you have a group of girls to impress, a bludger to catch, or something?" Hermione was getting annoyed.

Victor sighed, "I'm sorry if I bother you. I will go." He stood and bowed to her—a real bow, at the waist—and walked out the door, as quiet and graceful as a large cat.

_What the hell was that about?_Shaking her head, the witch collected her books to leave, completely unable to concentrate now, and grumbled at herself for the wasted time. Not only did she still have no idea how to bring Malfoy to his knees, but she'd just torn up a two foot essay that she'd have to stay up all night redoing from scratch. She entered the Gryfindor Common Room grumpy and in no mood to talk to either Ron or Harry, the only two other occupants, who'd been waiting up for her. Dinner'd been over for hours now, not that she'd even noticed, but she did notice how hungry she was, and that made her mood worse. Plunking down into a big chair in front of the fireplace, Hermione opened up a Daily Prophet and buried herself in it, until she read the headline in front of her face, and crumpled the paper up, throwing it into the fire. It was a Rita Skeeter article on Victor Krum and his accomplishments, and the latest gossip on his "dream girl." _Whatever_, she instead pulled her potions textbook from her bag and flipped through to the chapter on various cures for pus-filled boils.

"D'you think she's ok?" She heard Ron's voice from behind her.

She really couldn't care less that they were about to have a conversation about her while she sat right there, at the momant, they could tapdance on her head, and they wouldn't get a response. Beetle's eyes and hare's fur was what she was thinking about, not boys or anything else.

"What do you think? Does she _look_ ok? What do you think happened?" Harry hissed.

"I don't know, she was studying in the library again, maybe Malfoy caught her on her way out? Or they didn't have the book she wanted?"

"Those are pretty great guesses, Ron. I'm sorry, I can't lie, the first is decent, except we both know Malfoy's up in the astronomy tower with Pansy Parkinson tonight."

"Then what about the book thing?" There was a soft thud. "Ow! What was that for?"

"You really are stupid, aren't you?" It was Ginny's voice. "What's the only reason any girl would stomp in a room and completely ignore her best friends? It's boy trouble, I'd bet money on it."

Hermione dropped her book to the floor. That was seriously the last straw. Standing slowly, feeling the tension rise behind her, she whipped around the chair and stared at Ginny and the boys maliciously.

"Boys!" She snapped harshly. "Is that all anyone can think about is boys? I'm so sick of hearing about everyone's romance problems, and them just assuming that I'd even have the time to have a boyfriend, let alone have _boy troubles_!!"

She stomped up to the girls' dorm, leaving her books behind—something she'd _never_ done before—and collapsed into bed, exhausted. She noticed she'd even left her homework unfinished about ten seconds before sleep overtook her, and with it, the worst kind of dreams.

_They were everywhere, big, hazel, catlike eyes that stared at her from every angle, sometimes she'd see a pair of blue, and she'd feel like killing someone, other times a pair of green, and she thought she'd never been happier. A ballroom orchestra started, and there were suddenly figures dancing all around her, in her flannel pyjamas, and then, in nothing at all. _

She woke up screaming!

It was still dark outside her window when she finally opened her eyes, and most of the other girls were still sleeping, except one bed that was empty. Lavender Brown's bed was empty, she had snuck off again with that Durmstrang boy she'd met two weeks ago. Hermione was terrified to go back to sleep, and suddenly remembered her essay and bookbag downstairs. Sitting up on her bed, she managed to slip down to the Common Room and finish her essay four hours later. By that time, everyone was getting up and heading out to classes, and she had yet to change into a fresh uniform. Hermione ran upstairs in a panic, grateful that the bathroom was practically empty since almost everyone had left, and rushed through her daily ritual.

She was late for History of Magic, and missed half of a very important lecture. By lunchtime she'd been so hungry from not eating for nearly twenty-four hours, hermione almost passed out in the Great Hall before even reaching her table. Harry glanced at Ron worriedly, but didn't say anything. After dinner, Hermione decided to take some time in the library again, to try and clear her head of the awful dream. But when she got to her usual table, she found a surprise waiting for her.

Victor Krum stood in front of the table. He was holding a single white rose.


	3. Chapter 3

There ya go, a double-size chapter! I do not own Harry Potter or it's characters, Ect, Ect.

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Hermione's mind raced nervously. Should she ignore him? He couldn't possibly be waiting for her, so what should she do? He hadn't even spoken to her before yesterday, though if she remembered correctly, yesterday wasn't the first—or even the fifth—time she'd caught Victor sneaking around the library shelves when she studied here…_ No, he's waiting for someone else, he probably asked her to meet him here so he could ask her to the Yule Ball in private. _She shook her head and walked around the table, avoiding Victor and all eye contact with the hazel-eyed celebrity.

Returning her books to a very sullen Madame Pince, the witch headed straight for the History section, and picked up her old favorite, _Howarts, A History_. No one ever took it out, and she was proud of that fact because it meant she never had to wait for it when she wanted it. Since the "celebrity" had commondeered her usual table, Hermione seated herself at a smaller one in the far corner of the Library. It was a quiet secluded spot, and she was surprised she'd never seen the two-seater before; to say the least, it was he perfect place to think.

After about a capter or so however, the witch found she couldn't concentrate on the words in front of her face. _Fine then_, she thought as she closed the book solidly. _I'll just think then_. She pulled out a quill and ink bottle, and a few pieces of blank parchment from her bag, and wrote a list, labelling the top:

"Operation DPD (Die Prats, Die!)

Borrow some nosebleed nougats from F&G, Alter it to give D a 'period'?

Do the same for P right before she goes to Astronomy Tower with D?

Find a way to stop P's period, then make her gain twenty pounds over a week."

She scratched out the first two, and thought about the last. It was certainly an idea, though there was something missing. She had to be sure it would more than destroy Pansy, it would hve to be more to Draco than some kind of simple humiliation or inconvenience that he got a girl pregnant. Would it help if he had no idea that the kid was his? Or would he use that as an excuse not to take responsibility for it? Now there was a question Hermione never thought she'd ask; just how low _was_ Draco Malfoy?

She figured he would take the road more travelled, all jerks were the same. _So I'll have to do something else to Malfoy, so what? It'll be worth it to see the look on that slut's face when he dumps her_. She put a note beside the one left, and labelled it "DSD"—you can guess why. Putting a line underneath it all to "cut" her page in two, she tried to think of a way to drag Malfoy into the same muddy ditch as his girlfriend.

She thought furiously, getting more impatient with herself as she ever had. Two years ago, she knew she had time to make Him squirm, but time was running out. Hermione wanted to make Prefect next year, and that would be the official end of her plotting days. She had to make her debut right after Malfoy and Parkinson were still suffering their worst humiliation, by the end of the year, the had to go down. Finally, she turned to her never-fail solution, research. What did she know about Draco Malfoy, other than his family priorities?

She used the rest of her parchment to write a list of the things she knew—almost all of which accompanied insults—about the blond, and ecided she obviously didn't know enough. She already knew all the awful things he was, but what was he proud of, that she could take away from him? She needed to find his weakness, and it wasn't in all the things she found hateful about him. At that point, the witch realized she'd have to do field work for this, and get completely involved in her research. She would have to litterally study Draco Malfoy; his eating habits, where he went ouside of classes and the Slytherin Common Room, even the many, many girls he was rumoured to be screwing besides Pansy.

The thought made her isually shudder, but Hermione had no other choice. It was either that, or give up on her revenge—something she would rather die than even consider. The decision had been made even before Hermione cleared her books and papers, and stood, shouldering her bookbag._ I really will have to remember this corner table, the quiet is fantastic to think in_. She smirked in self-satisfaction and turned towards the shelves that blocked her view of the library door.

She almost screamed when she turned the corner. The person standing there, staring right at her with enraptured facsination, was none other than Victor Krum. She looked down at his hands to avoid his deep gaze, and saw the white rose, drooping a little since the three hours she'd seen him in the front of the Library.

"How long were you standng there?" She asked him, what she didn't ask she thought almost loud enough for him to hear; _did your date stand you up_?

He grunted. "You look like you are busy, I didn't want bother you."

"What was so important that you would wait here for me? Don't you have other plans on a friday night?"

"You don't." He pointed out.

Hermione snorted. "Look, I'm not like you, I'm not a celebrity or anything, and I don't have dates to wait for. If there's something you want to tell me, do it now, I'm tired, and I just want to go to bed early, on a Friday night, because that's what I do."

He looked a bit shocked, then regained his composure, and bowed deeply. "I would like you to accept this rose, and ask if you would accompany me to the Yule Ball."

Without even realizing what she was doing, Hermione instinctively reached out to take the rose. Her mind couldn't fully proccess what was going on as Victor Krum, _the_ Victor Krum intercepted her hand with his own and brushed her knuckles against his lips. Her blush was inevetible, and she couldn't help but giggle. Then, without warning, the giggle turned into an uproar of mirth.

"Is there something wrong?" Victor asked.

Between chuckles, Hermione managed to gasp a few words. "This… A joke… Krum… Ha ha ha ha… got to be… oh, god."

"A joke?" He asked, puzzled. "This is no joke. If you do not believe me, I will ask again, and again until you say yes." His face turned to stone once again and he turned to leave, as Hermione finally calmed down and realized he had been serious.

"Oh shit." She said to herself.

For the next week, Hermione avoided the Library like the Plague. Her favorite place suddenly became the source of many very very odd dreams that she wasn't sure if she was scared of or not. Most of them she couldn't remember when she awoke, she only remembered waking up sweaty and hot, her breath coming in short gasps, her heart pounding.

The next Friday, Professor Snape assigned them a personal project, a three-part study of a level 5 potion, one of a list in a chapter of their textbooks. Hermione had memorized the list, but one caught her eye and she knew it would be best to do a study on that one, and take her time doing it. This particular potion could temporarily feign the symptoms of certain illnesses, kind of like Fred and George's Skiving snack boxes, but a bit more advanced, and more flexible. With certain variations, the potion could do all the things the boys' did and more. She wondered vaguely if the potion was the main ingredient in their candies, and why it hadn't been trademarked by anyone before now.

The point was that this assignment could mean Hermione's big break. She'd been thinking about altering one of the twins' nosebleed nougat to give to Pansy, but figured she could find a more specific recipe if she looked up the main source. With this potion, she could fake both Parkinson's period, and pregnancy, without a problem. She'd had most of the plan pieced together, but needed a quiet place to put it down in front of her, since things made so much sense to her when it was down on paper.

Already scratching the library—grudgingly—off her list of options, Hermione tried her own Common Room, a laughable start, but it was a start. The second she sat down on the two-seated sofa, Ron slumped down beside her, overwhelmed by just the thought of homework on the weekend.

"You'd think Snape would at the least give Harry a break, since he's got to figure out his Clue, _and_ get a date for the Ball still!"

"Harry's not the only student in that class, the rest of us should use the opportunity to prepare for our OWLs, anyways." Hermione snapped, surprised at herself for defending Snape. Though it was obvious to everyone Ron had been pissing her off lately more than usual, especially when he mentioned that stupid Ball. "Just because you're already determined to fail Potions, doesn't mean all of us should follow _your_ example, Ronald."

"She's right Ron." Harry piped in before a real fight could break out. He'd been the one trying to keep fires down between the two, and had more often than not stood up for Hermione, noticing her short fuse of late. "I'll be all right with this, let the girl study alright?" She smiled warmly at the boy, and then glowered at Ron.

The redhead wasn't quite done yet, however. He was offended by Hermione's jab, and wanted to get one up on her for it. "She's not a girl, the way she works, and studies, and does examples in front of the class; she's more like a robot, I'm not surprised she's got nothing better to do on a Friday night."

That was the last straw. Hermione slammed her book shut, and whipped to face Ron. "And what sort of plans did you have, Ron? Did you have a _date_ to get to? Are you running late for your _girlfriend_ to talk about the Yule Ball? Because I'm sorry if my study habits are getting in the way of your _active _love life." She stood up and stomped towards the portrait hole.

"Hermione, wait!" Harry called after her. She stopped short of the exit, and turned to the green eyed boy expectantly.

"He didn't mean it like that—"

"The hell I didn't!" Ron interrupted, glaring at Hermione. "And at least I try to have a social life, you don't even care about anything that isn't leather-bound and five hundred pages!"

There wasn't anything Hermione could really say or do at that point, so she settled for the boy's own crude approach. As she swung open the portrait hole with one hand, and with the other made a rude hand gesture towards him. "Shove it, Ronald," was all she said before slamming the door shut behind her.

"Hey!" the Fat Lady yelled after the angry witch.

She didn't even watch where she was going, Hermione just ran, somewhere close to tears. It was so easy for Ron to make her cry, it always had been, though she got good at hiding it from him, his sister Ginny knew only too well how much Ron had hurt her without always meaning to. The first time it happened, she'd been nearly killed by a troll, and now, well now her feet led her to a very different place than the second story bathroom, but somewhere just as familiar and safe.

Even as she reached the Library door and pulled it open she knew what might happen, but she didn't care. She didn't even care if Victor Krum saw her crying over some dumb boy who didn't even see her as a person with feelings, let alone a girl. Maybe she'd get lucky and Victor had given up on her after that first night—or maybe she would smash into his very masculine body exiting the Library just as she was entering it.

Her book bag split and scattered her things across the floor in front of the doorway, and she bent to pick them up, too exhausted to even apologize to the man, or make a snide comment. She wasn't surprised when he bent over to help her, but she wasn't angry, either. Hermione instinctively wiped her tears away to try and hide them from Victor, but couldn't help sniffling loudly, which he did notice.

The man froze, slowly moving one hand under her chin to angle her face towards him. The look in his eyes was smouldering, and it scared the girl, who had never seen anyone look protectively at her before.

"Who has done this to you?" He asked gravely.

Hermione shook her head, confused. "Done what? What are you talking about?"

"Someone has dishonoured you. That is why you cry, yes?"

"It's nothing, it's not like I'm hurt or anything." _Not physically_, she wanted to say, _but I'm used to being hurt the other ways_.

Hermione hurried to pick up the rest of her books and fixed the rip with a quick charm she hoped Madame Pince wouldn't see. "Thank you for helping me, I'm sorry I haven't exactly treated you… kindly, the past few days." _More like completely ignored his existence, as hard as it had been_, she thought shamefully.

"It is a pleasure to help you. I was just about to take a walk around the grounds before the sun sets, would you join me?" His eyes pleaded her to accept the invitation, but did not demand her, she almost said yes, then remembered why she'd been avoiding the place for a week.

"I'm sorry, but I have some work to do, I have a large assignment due Monday and I have to get started, that's why I was coming here."

She expected him to press her with a question about the real reason she'd come here, to escape Ron and his hurtful words, but he simply nodded acquiescence. "Of course, you still have classes to attend. My headmaster Professor Karkaroff, he excused me of assignments for the duration on the Tournament. My apologies, but would I be out of line to ask to sit with you? If I were to be a distraction, I would understand." His accent was still stiff, but his pronunciation was getting better, at least he sounded a bit less unintelligent, though Hermione wasn't sure if she was more comfortable with the formality of his speech. Still, she didn't have much of a choice, he would either follow her around afterwards, or she could accept now and get it over with.

"Alright, I guess there wouldn't be a problem, as long as you're quiet." She warned him with a look that promised immediate consequences to disobeying her one rule, though she knew he didn't need it—he was probably the most quiet person—let alone boy—she'd ever met.

An hour later, sitting in the small corner seat Hermione had discovered last week, she finally closed her book and her notes, noticing how dark it was outside the window beside her two-seater table. The next thing she'd noticed was that Victor was still watching her intently, as if he were trying to memorize her face.

"Are you alright?" She finally had to ask.

"No, I'm afraid not." He answered gruffly, and Hermione couldn't hide her surprise.

"What's the matter, then?"

"You are the matter!" He raised his voice, making her jump, and when he saw, he bowed his head in shame. "I'm sorry, but I have watched you before, how you study with a certain… look. You love what you do, it's passion that I see, every day when I watch you, and then today, you come in crying, and tell me you are not hurt. Then you stare at your books and write things down, but it is not the same. The look of happiness is gone from you, someone has taken your passion away, and you will not even admit it to yourself. That hurts me to see you hurting." He finished on a confident note, as if very assured that what he said was right.

"Umm, let's overlook for a second that you just admitted you've been stalking me, and assume you realize I could press charges for that sort of thing. Oh, and over the whole asking if your out of your mind to begin with, which I have already assumed is true by your insane interest in me, nerd girl of the century." Hermione had to think for a second, "well, that leaves out about anything I had to say, what've you got?" She asked, a bit sarcastically.

He might have laughed at her if he'd been English. If he'd known exactly what she was talking about, he would have tried to laugh to shrug off the tension. But Victor Krum the Bulgarian was all about tension and seriousness.

"I've got a, bone to break with the person who would make you feel such hurt, and with you for letting them and not speaking up for yourself."

"Don't you mean, bone to _pick_?" Hermione asked.

"No, I do not believe so."

"Wow, I didn't think anybody could get you so worked up. Listen, I'm sorry, but I'm pretty used to taking care of myself. There isn't really much you can do that's going to change the way Ron Weasley or Draco Malfoy treat me, so just—"

"Did those two boys make you cry today? Are they enemies of yours?"

"No!" Hermione insisted, "Well, yes, I guess Ron did make me cry, but he's not my enemy. Draco is, but Ron's actually a friend—"

"And why would a friend make you cry or feel bad about yourself?"

"Because he's just a stupid boy, who doesn't know anything, I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop interrupting me when I'm trying to say something. I might have deserved it, just a bit." She admitted shyly.

"We'll see," Victor said. "What did this Ron say to you?"

Hermione shook her head, not wanting to remember. "He just teased me about how I study all the time, and said I wasn't fun, he said I was more of a robot than a girl. It wouldn't hurt so much if I hadn't thought he was going to ask me to the Ball…" Tears started flowing again. "I don't even like him that way, but I thought he would at least want to take me as a friend…" She was furiously trying to wipe away tears as they threatened to fall.

Then, the oddest thing happened. Victor Krum, seeker for the National Bulgarian Quidditch team, handed Herione Granger, "nerd girl of the century," a silk handkerchief, which she proceeded to blow her nose in—barely caring how disgusting she seemed—and handed it back to him. Then, without even hesitating, Victor Krum took the snotty handkerchief and stuffed it in his pocket gingerly, as if it were as clean as when he'd handed it to her.

When Hermione had finally calmed down, she thanked Victor for being there, and said she had to get back to her dorm and get some sleep. In turn, he insisted on walking her to the Portrait, to make sure she was alright. They walked in silence, leaving Hermione too much time to think. _He's been so kind to me, and all I've ever done is reject him, and push him away. He is rather attractive, and so much like a gentleman, would it hurt to have a boyfriend that much?_ If he asked her to the Yule Ball, was it such a bad thing, or so unlikely? She knew she'd grown to be a woman, even if the boys her age weren't yet mature enough to be called a man. Maybe that was actually what she needed, a real man, not another boy.

When Hermione turned to say goodbye, she could see a small amount of sadness in his eyes. "What's wrong now? I told you I'm fine; what Ron did was stupid, but I'll forgive him because he really doesn't know any better."

"I have made a fool of myself, when I asked you to the Ball." Victor bowed his head. "I had no idea you wanted to attend with someone else, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

Hermione grabbed his arm when he turned to walk away. "Wait, I'm the one who should apologize. I was only going to go with Ron because he probably wouldn't find anyone else to go with. I also really did think you were joking when you asked me. I'm sorry for not taking your feelings seriously, I would love to go to the Ball with you, if the offer's still open?" She asked hopefully.

He didn't smile, but she could see the joy in his eyes when she said it. "Of course, I will arrange to meet you at the entrance to the Great Hall on that night." He bowed and left her then, but not before taking her hand to kiss her knuckles lightly.

This time the act didn't shock her and disturb her modern-woman thought patterns, but she saw it as sweet and polite. Her smile didn't even fade when she walked straight up the stairs right past Lavender Brown, who gave her an odd look, then shrugged.

"Must be boys." She whispered, just loud enough for Hermione to hear.

_For once, I don't even care, even though she's right. I'm not going to let anyone ruin this for me. Not even Ron, as immature as he is._

For all that had happened to her that day, Hermione had no problem—for the first time in a week—drifting off into a dreamless, deep sleep.

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Apparently Hermione's starting to change her mind about boys, or maybe it's men… We'll see!


	4. Chapter 4

Short chapter, but SO worth it! (I hope!)

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_Well, it's out now; Harry and Ron know that I'm dating Victor Krum. Okay, they don't know I'm dating him—they don't even know he's the one taking me to the Ball—but they _do_ know I'm dating someone. _Hermione had stormed off from class, finishing the exam and trying not to scream while she was still in earshot of Professor Snape. Then she heard a sound almost too trying for even her patience.

"Well then, even the little mudblood found herself a date, it seems." Malfoy's drawl echoed in the empty hallway. Hermione would have just kept walking since the boy usually didn't go much farther than a single quip, but another voice sounded behind her, and her blood ran cold with double hatred.

"I doubt it. She's just lying to avoid the embarrassment of having to go with the Weasel, since no one else in Hogwarts would take her." Pansy Parkinson had crossed the line of Hermione's temper, and was about to have it unleashed on her tenfold.

Spinning around so fast if anyone had been watching would have whiplash, she bore down on the shorter, pug-faced girl.

"You know what, Pansy? I'd rather be a mudblood going with a weasel than a dog going with a ferret!" her hands were forced to her sides, trying to keep them from drawing her wand and cursing her then and there. It made her smile a bit when she saw Draco flinch at the word "ferret," and she reminded herself to thank Professor Moody sometime for it. "It just so happens," She continued with a smirk, "that I was invited by a Durmstrang boy, and thought it would be a bit more, I don't know, _exciting_ than any of the idiots in our year, don't you think?"

Draco turned to his girlfriend, "She's right about one thing, Weasley is pretty stupid, though Potter's got less brains by half."

"I wasn't talking about _Harry_, and I didn't just mean Ron." Hermione glared at the blonde, almost looking down her nose at him, and she would have if he wasn't so damned tall.

"I believe even less that any self-respecting Durmstrang would ask _you_ to the Yule Ball." Parkinson sniffed. "If you're telling the truth, what's his name?"

Now this threw the witch off. She'd been hoping to keep the whole thing a secret—until Pansy got involved. She decided to be honest. "Victor Krum." She sighed heavily.

The laughter that followed echoed even louder than Draco's drawl had moments before. "Victor Krum?" Pansy squealed. "Victor Krum is taking you to the Dance? That's a load of crock, oh, what a good joke, Granger."

Hermione stood there smirking. She knew that was the response she'd get, and knew exactly how to answer it. "Not that it should matter to you, you've already picked your idiot—I mean, date, but for your information, Victor is indeed escorting me to the Yule Ball, whether you believe it or not." Then she smirked again. "It's not like you could change it, either."

Pansy snapped to attention and eyed the other girl warily. The last comment and Hermione's calm answer to her provocation unnerved her, and she thought the girl might be telling the truth. What bothered her most was the sense of challenge in her tone. The filthy mudblood was taunting her! She had to accept the challenge, had to crush the little bitch where she stood with that smug, prideful grin.

"We'll see," Pansy spat at her. "The Ball's not for two weeks—and no dates are set in stone." She briskly walked away then, leaving Draco standing there, completely clueless to the challenge that had just been issued and accepted, but vaguely aware that he may have just been dumped.

"What the hell? Pansy, wait the hell up!" He called as he jogged to catch up with his lover.

Finally left alone with her own thoughts, Hermione was mentally kicking herself for what she'd just done._ You idiot! You couldn't just leave well enough alone. Now Parkinson and Malfoy are probably split up—wait, the two inseparable prats have just been separated! Well, not completely, if Draco has his way they'll still be together for the Yule Ball, and much more after that, even if Pansy were to chase after another guy, she'd soon be stopped. It's still not the time to split those two up, but it's a really good start, and all by coincidence, too!_

_It'll also be easy to keep the Victor thing a secret if Pansy's trying to "steal" him from me, if she wins, then everyone will know, but she won't win. An when she doesn't, she'll be too embarrassed from losing to Hermione Granger to mention it. This is even better than I had hoped for!_

Hermione was now skipping down the halls, humming to herself with evil glee. When she reached the girls dorms in the Gryffindor tower, past the third year's room, where she saw a flash of bright pink move just out of her view; Ginny Weasley was standing in front of a mirror, buried in a ton of odd pink fabric, looking like a strawberry cream puff.

"Is—is that your dress?" Hermione asked, trying to see it in a way that made Ginny look good.

"Yes, and I hate it. I wouldn't even go, but Neville asked me, and I didn't think anyone else would—"

"You mean you didn't think Harry would." Hermione said.

"Yeah, that too," Ginny sighed heavily. "I don't know what to do, I'm not sure he notices anything that doesn't have to do with the Tournament or Cho Chang. How am I ever supposed to get him to see _me_?" The redhead plopped down on her bed in a pink explosion, looking rather depressed.

Hermione stepped into the room, sitting beside the girl, and patted her arm. "You just have to give it time, Ginny. He'll see what's right in front of him if you just keep moving, date other people, show him that he's not the only person in the world that's worth your time. The dance is a good start, go with Neville, and have a good time, no matter who Harry ends up going with."

"I'm only going with Neville because no one else asked me." Ginny said.

"It doesn't matter. You'll have a great time, because Neville's a great guy. He's also the best dancer in our house, so you'll make everyone around you look like fools." The witch got her younger friend giggling at this, and hugged her gently. "Soon enough someone else is going to see what a terrific catch you are, and when they do, Harry's going to be sorry he ever looked at any girl who wasn't you."

"I hope you're right, Hermione. Thanks for the advice."

"I just hope Harry can find a date, since it turns out Cho's going with Cedric Diggory."

Ginny perked up. "Really?"

"Don't even think about it, you already told Neville you'd go with him. What did I just finish saying?" the girl swatted her younger friend playfully on the arm.

"Well what about you? Are you going to go with him, or Ron?" Ginny looked at her suspiciously.

"You don't need to worry about me encroaching on our territory, I'm not going with either of them."

Ginny went red, embarrassed at being caught in her thoughts. "Well, what about Ron? Ever since Fleur turned him down, every time you're not around, he says the next time he sees you he's going to ask you."

Hermione was surprised, but was still too annoyed to be curious. "Well he finally asked me, after a week and a half, and a last resort." Then she smiled evilly to herself. "Too bad this 'last resort' already has a date."

Ginny nearly jumped off the bed. "Omigod, you're kidding! Who? Why didn't you tell me? When did it happen? Talk to me!"

"I will when you give me a chance to." The witch laughed. "I was asked about two weeks ago, and I can't tell you because I don't want Ron or Harry to know, and I know if they ask you, you won't have a choice but to tell them. I'm sorry hun, but you're just too honest, you can't help it."

The redhead pouted, but didn't argue because she knew it was true. "Well, as long as it's not Harry, I guess I don't really mind."

Hermione laughed, though the thought had entered her mind for a second, going with her best friend Harry Potter wasn't really an option, no matter how much of a crush she had on him in her first year. Ginny had her eyes on him, and there was no way she was going to sacrifice her only girl-friend for a guy anyways.

"I only have one problem, after all, I really wasn't prepared to go to the ball anyways…"

"You don't have a dress, do you?"

"No, I don't. Do you know what I can do?"

Ginny looked thoughtful. "Do you have a Gringotts account?"

"Yeah, my mom just opened one for me this year, with all my allowance from like, three years in wizarding currency." Ginny gave her an odd look. "What? I like to save."

"Well," Then the redhead smiled wickedly. "Then I have just the ticket. By the end of the night, Hermione Granger will have the most amazing dress for the Yule Ball on its way to Hogwarts, express owl."

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I don't own Harry Potter, ect. Ect. Don't delete me!


	5. Chapter 5

Hi hi! Your welcome for getting this one up so quick! Can't really do much other than write this week anyways, since I got beat up by a riser on Wednesday! Ha-ha, anyways, this one's a bit dramatic, but I hope it still makes you laugh a bit.

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"My uncle was talking to Karkaroff, your manager the other day. As you know, He runs a broomstick company that is in very close competition with the same company that opened with the 'Firebolt,' and he's looking for athletes to sponsor."

Hermione stopped suddenly behind the bookshelf, for a moment, she thought she heard Pansy Parkinson. She peeked through the tops of the heavy volumes in the back of the library, the shelf that hid what had become her and Victor Krum's traditional meeting place since he'd asked her out. Yep, it was definitely Pansy, and talking to her "boyfriend." Curious, she stayed put, wanting to hear what Pansy was probably bribing or threatening Victor with to make him take her to the Yule Ball.

"Yes, Karkaroff has been pressing me to get a sponsor soon, he says my playing isn't enough to pay all the bills to retirement." He said some more in Bulgarian that Hermione didn't understand, but obviously Pansy could.

"Isn't it awful? I guess you didn't think much about how hard it would be to live after your career was over. The shelf life of a Quidditch player is five years if you're incredibly lucky, and no one's been that lucky. Life and body insurance can't be cheap, either, how would you live after retirement? Your manager is just trying to look out for you, Victor. So am I."

More unintelligible gibbering, as Victor's tone became angry, as if he could no longer control his tongue.

"I'm just saying that I can help you. My uncle always had a sweet spot for his sister's daughter, and I could convince him that even as a foreigner, _you_ are the best choice for his sponsorship." Hermione's jaw dropped as she saw the pug-faced girl reach out and touch the man's arm, almost caressing it. "I understand you, Victor, not just your language, but your lifestyle. I can take care of you like no one else can. Don't you want that, someone who can understand your needs and accomplish them with you?"

The brunette witch had had enough. She straightened herself to interrupt and confront Victor, and demand he choose between the two. She had never really felt jealousy before, not without some understanding of either the pointlessness of it, or the logic behind the other's intentions. But something about Pansy Parkinson made her skin crawl and her pride flare up and take over all rational thought. Before she could clear her throat and announce her presence, however, Victor took a deep breath and said something else in his tongue, so calmly that Hermione had trouble even reading the meaning under the tone. The only thing she could tell was that it had an air of finality that Victor said before walking away with his usual catlike grace.

Hermione made a small movement to go after him, but ended up tripping over a bit of uneven carpet instead, and fell on her face. When she lifted her head to get up again, she saw the face of her loathed enemy, smirking at her.

"I thought I heard a cockroach behind the dusty books. I can only guess you heard him, but you don't understand his language, do you? You don't know if he rejected me, or if he promised he'd dump you." Pansy bent down to look into the girl's eyes. "I can tell you, if you want, but maybe you should ask him? I'm sure he'd like to tell you to your face who he's taking to the Ball after this."

She pushed herself up to her full five-foot four inches, and pushed Pansy out of the way. Tears were welling up in her eyes, and Hermione couldn't think of a single place to go where no one would ask what was wrong. The last thing Hermione wanted to do was admit that she'd been bested by that bitch; there was no doubt in her mind that the other girl's grin had meant with her smug grin and venomous words. However, she was desperate for some kind of security, some feeling of comfort, and ended up turning to the Fat Lady, after thoroughly wiping her face, of course.

"Have Harry Potter or Ron Weasley been through for the night?" She asked the portrait, who seemed slightly surprised that a student seemed to want to speak to her at all besides the extent of saying the password.

"Why yes they have, but they left again only ten minutes ago, I say, dear, are you quite all right?" The fat lady looked sincerely concerned.

"I'm fine, what about Ginny? Is she in there?"

"no, she want with the other two boys. Ah, dear if you could please tell me—"

"Fairy Lights" Hermione interrupted, cutting the lady of the portrait off as she swung forward.

Not stopping for a second in the common room, Hermione stomped up the girls' stairs to the third-years room, and threw herself onto Ginny's bed. She tipped her head over the edge, and pulled out a box from underneath. The violet box was still intact; its satin ribbon hadn't even been removed or untied for almost two weeks. _I thought Ginny would at least be curious to see the design. I'm surprised she kept to her promise that neither of us would see me in it until the night_. Hermione thought, and then almost burst into tears again. _But it's not like I have anywhere to wear it now, I can't believe I lost to that, that dog! Why do I even care? I don't really like Victor, do I? This was all to get back at Ron for being a prat, and Pansy for being… Well, Pansy._ The girl was now hopelessly crying as she slowly pulled the ribbon open, and slipped it off the luxurious box, which she opened with as much seriousness.

The silken fabric flowed between Hermione's fingers, reminding her a bit of the liquid quality of Harry's Invisibility Cloak. The pink was a darker shade of the colour of Ginny's, and shone a bit around the bodice and wide, deep neckline. It was still the most beautiful thing Hermione had ever seen, let alone worn. She thought it didn't look any different than it had in the catalogue, which only surprised her long enough to remember how much better magical products were compared to muggle ones. It had arrived merely two days after she'd sent in the order with her measurements—another bit of proof that magic was as close as life got to perfect—and she had no doubt it would fit her perfectly.

_First, I need a bath_. Hermione thought_. If I'm going to wear it even once, I don't want to sweat in the dress, but I don't think I'll send it back, either. It's too beautiful. I bought this dress thinking of myself, not of impressing any boy or teacher or making any girl jealous—but of how I want to be seen when I look in the mirror, not just my curves and my face, how good or bad, but me as I am, at my best_.

She stood up, packing the dress gently away again, and headed for the third-year's bathroom. The girls wouldn't mind if she borrowed the bath for ten minutes while she washed her body and hair. The thorough soaking and scrubbing distracted Hermione for a while, and it felt good to clean herself—as if she could scrub away the memory of what she'd seen and heard.

Just as Hermione was stepping out and getting covered with a towel, Ginny burst into the bathroom. "Hermione, What're you doing in here?" She asked. "Never mind, you've got to get dressed and get out _right now_! I don't know why, but Victor Krum is outside the portrait, and says he'll camp out there tonight if it takes that to have you come out and talk to him!" The girl's eyes were wild with excitement. "Is he the one who asked you to the Ball? Why is he here? Why aren't you taking a bath in your own dorm? Answer me!"

"What would you rather have, me answer all your questions, or get that Durmstrang off our front porch, so to speak?" Hermione threw at the redhead to shut her up. "Oh, I don't want to speak with him! But if he stays too long, Harry and Ron'll see him, and obviously ask what he's doing, and he's too honest to lie, and he hasn't a reason to, either! I thought I didn't want them to know we were dating, how much worse would it be for them to find out e dumped me!" the girl was close to crying again, fully ashamed of her situation. She forced herself to stand straight however, and keep her chin up_. Like a soldier about to face the guns_, she thought seriously, as she pulled on a clean change of clothes summoned with her wand and exited the portrait hole to face the celebrity, or as she suddenly thought him, her executioner. Ginny followed closely, but Hermione smacked the hole closed, and almost in the girl's face, to keep this as private as it could get.

"Victor." She said politely to the man in front of her, still in his school's uniform.

"Hermione, please, I beg of you to take this chance for that walk I asked for, the one you were 'too busy' to take last time?" He sounded upset, as if he'd been the one dumped tonight, or about to be.

Pain made her want to refuse, to insist that he finish this here and now, but fear of being found out by her friends won over, and she nodded weakly. Swiftly and silently, they walked together around and finally out of the castle, and about halfway around the black lake before victor stopped, pulled off his fur cloak, and wrapped it around Hermione's shoulders. Again, the girl could only meekly admit his gesture, no matter how much it hurt her, or perhaps it only hurt her pride. _What is taking him so long? Why doesn't he just dump me and get it over with, why all the theatrics?_

"Hermione," the soft way he said her name made her flinch. "I am sorry, but I think there is a misunderstanding between us, and I want it cleared, right now." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a newspaper clipping that looked at least a month old, and handed it to her. "Do you or do not you have a relationship with Potter?"

She looked at him in shock, puzzled by what he had said completely. Hermione looked down at the clipping now in her hand, and almost choked the urge to laugh was so hard.

"This is the picture and article by Rita Skeeter printed just after the first Task." She stared at Victor in disbelief. "This column is over a month old, and complete rubbish besides. Everything Rita has ever written is total bull, Victor. I thought you didn't read this stuff."

The wizard looked at his feet, shamefaced. "I don't, Karkaroff gave it to me when I tell him I was escorting you to the Ball. He said I should go with a pureblood who would be loyal, and then told me about an offer for a sponsor."

Hermione glared at him harshly. "Oh, I know about the offer. I heard you talking to Pansy." She took a step closer to him, but with such a malevolent aura around her that Victor stepped back, almost cringing.

"You thought I was being disloyal, on account of that load of crock that manager of yours calls an _article_? And then, you go and tell Pansy Parkinson, that two-faced _bitch_ that you'll go out with her just so you can move forward in your _career_? And last, but not least, you threaten to embarrass me in front of all my peers, so I'll come out in the freezing cold in the dead of night, and accuse me of this _ridiculousness_ right before you _dump_ me? I thought perhaps I had had it wrong about you from the beginning, that you had a brain and maybe an ounce of decency in you. But you are just as bad as the rest of those, those _boys_!" She snapped at him, with every accusation and angry word shooting daggers into his very soul. Hermione Granger was at her most terrifying not with a wand in her hand or a swinging fist, but at the peak of hurt and loss of face. She would _not_ go down without a fight, and damned she would be if she didn't take Krum with her.

She could have slapped him, and maybe that would make her feel better. But she also knew it would make Victor fear her wrath less. The worst she could do was actually continue to not do anything. For as long as he didn't know what this anger made her capable of, he could easily make it worse before it ever got the chance to get better. However, Victor Krum had made a career out of doing things that he was scared to death of doing, and that was why he'd been made a Triwizard Champion. He stepped forward till just a few inches separated him and this fiery witch, and grabbed her to pull her into a very solid kiss. When he let her go, Hermione Granger was breathless and shocked, realising she'd just received her first kiss. From a man she was sure was about to break up with her.

"Like I said," Victor said, as if the kiss had just been to shut her up. "There have been misunderstandings between us. More than I thought, apparently, and now I want to clear them all." He looked at Hermione, who still looked completely lost to the world. "What is wrong now?"

"Nothing." The witch snapped out of it quickly, and breathed in deeply. "I only have one question, then I promise you can say anything else and I will believe you, and I won't say anything else except to answer the questions you give me."

"I will tell you anything you wish to know."

"When you spoke to Pansy, and she knew your language so you spoke it, what was the last thing you said to her before you walked away? Did you tell her you'd escort her to the Yule Ball?"

Victor snorted with laughter. "You mean the dog-faced girl? I told her that she might understand my career, and my tongue, but my heart speaks its own language, and the only person to understand it was Hermione." He looked into her eyes, his hazel eyes searching for assurance that what he said was true. "I said that I would go with my own sister before her, and before that, Hermione is the only girl I will be with."

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Ok, it's true, I do love reviews that compliment the plot, but I'd also love more constructive criticism! Don't worry, I'm no where near being out of ideas, I just want some opinions on how I can portray some of the characters from Hermione's point of view, one's that I've been avoiding, like the twins and Harry and even Draco I think, just a bit. Anyways, I do like good reviews, but bad ones help build character! Just be honest, please!


	6. Chapter 6

Okay, this one took a little while, but it is so worth it you will pee yourself!

I do not Own Harry Potter or the characters! If I did then there would definitely be a spell mentioned in the books that keeps promises without making the Unbreakable Vow! (don't ask, read to find out wtf I'm talking about)

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"Tonight's the night, are you ready?" Hermione peeked around the stall door of the bathroom. "You've been in there a long time, and I still have to do my hair. Is everything all right?"

Ginny was sitting on the toilet, trying to fit wads of tissue paper down the front of her dress, when Hermione caught her in the act. "Why the hell are you stuffing?"

"Because I want to look older."

"Ginny, everyone knows how old you are, including Neville."

"I'm not doing it for Neville."

Hermione laughed and cleared her throat. "Harry knows how old you are, too."

"All right, maybe not older, but—" the redhead sighed heavily. "I want to look at least somewhat attractive! I look like a little kid in this dress!"

Hermione gave her friend a critical look. "Well, all that pink is a little much, it's too puffy in the skirt, too." She grinned. "Give me five minutes, all I need is my wand and a pair of scissors."

Ginny looked at the older girl fearfully. "Have you ever worked with fabric and magic before? It takes a real professional to do it properly."

"Do you want me to at least try?"

"Um, no thanks, I'd rather chance looking like a kid with Neville than end up having to replace a dress."

"Ouch."

"Will it make you feel better if I take the tissue out of my bra?" Ginny tried.

The girl grinned and said, "yep, but only if you let me do your hair, too."

She was nervous. No, nervous was the wrong word for it, _terrified _would make a better description. What if he stood her up? What if she'd misunderstood the meeting place and ended up waiting for him for an hour, looking like he'd stood her up, while he was doing the same somewhere else?

Then, just after Hermione gained the courage to step out on the top of the stairs, Victor appeared and took her arm, and she couldn't see or hear anything but his face and the beating of her own heart after that.

"Are you ready?" He asked her, smiling.

"Yes." Hermione said, breathlessly and followed him into the Hall and onto the glamorous dance floor. Tonight was going to be just perfect, she could tell.

She screamed after the redhead's retreating back, "Ron! You've ruined—everything!" then she collapsed on the stairs, sobbing. All she'd wanted was to be happy, but her friends had turned on her instead of being happy for her. _It's because I lied to them, I know. I didn't lie directly, but omission of fact is next to lying, and now I hate myself. _Why the hell did Ron always make her cry? Why was it so easy for him to make her hate herself? Even Draco Malfoy didn't make her sad, just angry.

At that moment she wiped her eyes and caught sight of a white-blonde head running out to the doors leading outside the school. _Speak of the devil, and he will do something sneaky before your eyes. _She followed him outside—not having anything else to do except sit on the stairs and feel sorry for herself—and almost left again when she realised he'd been following someone else—rather predictably.

Pansy Parkinson had apparently gotten over being rejected by Victor with the help of another Durmstrang, as Draco had found himself a slytherin since all the Beauxbatons girls already had dates by the time he'd been dumped. Soon however, he had ditched the poor girl in favour of a table where he could clearly spy on his ex-girlfriend and her date, and about six shots of the very spiked punch—while Pansy Parkinson and the unnamed Durmstrang hunk danced closely, she laughed and flirted, knowing full well Draco was watching and whipped back a few drinks herself.

Now the slut was being true to her reputation—the one that before was only half true, being confined to one boy, but not one place or any bit of dignity—and headed towards the Black Lake and the huge ship in it with her date, giggling drunkenly. Of course Draco, being prideful and spiteful and now very, very drunk had followed her to grow some balls and put a stop to this. At least that's what Hermione had assumed in the two seconds she had to decide if it was worth sticking around to watch—her night had been a bit too preoccupied to pay much real attention to anyone but Victor.

But things seemed to be heating up, and Hermione remembered that she'd been the one to start all this, and berated herself for forgetting her current purpose in life for the sake of a man. Draco had just walked up to the couple, swaggering half from his usual arrogance and half from his impaired balance.

"What the 'ell do you think you're doin'?" He snapped at the couple's backs. When they turned and stopped abruptly, Draco caught up to them and attempted to punch the taller, stronger man in the chin—a hit that was caught neatly in the large hand of Mr. "Hunk."

Pansy giggled drunkenly. "We're going to the ship to talk alone, aren't we, baby?" She took Hunk's other hand and he released Draco's fist—unfortunately without twisting it first.

"The hell you are!" Draco glared at his ex, who still didn't seem to care at how angry he'd gotten. "Don't you forget that you might be a slut, but you're _my_ slut, Pansy!"

Suddenly the girl's expression changed to anger. "Try and fucking stop me, you little shit!" Pansy grabbed her date's suit collar and pulled him in for a deep kiss, just to prove that she knew he couldn't.

Draco's jaw dropped, and he seemed to lose it when he saw her triumphant face when the couple disengaged. He walked up to her too fast for anyone to react and slapped her across the face. "You're a just a skank. That's all you ever were, and that's all you'll ever—" he was cut off by a fist connecting solidly with his nose.

Hermione didn't even see the two leave calmly as the blond crumpled to the ground; more from shock than pain, even though there was blood dribbling down into his mouth.

By the time she realised she'd been hiding behind a wall and not actively being involved in the scene before her, Hermione had thought to rush to Pansy and possibly hug her or something else ridiculous.

Instead she smirked and walked out from her secluded space casually. She stopped just behind him, and said. "You really are stupid. Not just when you're drunk, either."

Draco's head shot up and he whirled around, trying to stand and turn at the same time. Of course he failed, and ended up scrambling awkwardly to stand, sneering with blood all over his chin and mouth. "What the hell do you want, mudblood?"

Hermione snorted. "You stand there, covered in blood and dirt, having just lost your girlfriend to a piece of meat who would even lose to Goyle in a vocabulary contest, and still you try to convince me that you're superior here, tell me; what about that makes sense?"

"You filthy little—" Her laugh cut him off.

"You think it's your turn to talk? I don't recall giving you permission to speak, rat. But I'm going to overlook that little bit of rudeness—and all the other irritation you've caused me—just for a moment. Just long enough to tell you that I can help your sorry ass out."

Blue eyes shot open to look into hers, and for once Hermione didn't feel the disgust she normally did, or the victory she thought she would at this moment. It wasn't quite pity, but on short notice that was the only word the girl could come up with to describe it—because there was no way in hell it could be sympathy.

"What did you say, Granger?" The suspicious tone pulled Hermione out of her thoughts and back to the moment; she cleared her throat.

"I said I can help you out."

"And why the hell would you do that?"

She laughed lightly. "I didn't say that I would, just that I _could_. I would start by healing that bloody nose of yours—I don't think it's broken, but damn that girl can hit, you wouldn't think of it looking at her tiny build. Then I could fix your reputation, and get back your little 'skank. But there's no reason for me to actually help you.'"

"Then you telling me this is useless!" He glared at Hermione with what he probably meant to seem threatening, but was in reality downright depressing. She had meant for this, for him to know that the person he hated could save him, but his hope would be crushed before even realising it. She wanted to see Draco look so dejected and humiliated, so why did she feel bad for him? _Don't you dare tell me you're going soft, Granger, he deserves this and you've got to let him have it!_ That part of her brain screamed at her, but another voice: _After all that you've been put through, would you still hurt another person, even for revenge?_ The girl sighed heavily, the battle being lost. Or won, depending on how you saw it.

"Not completely. All I need is a little incentive, since I'm in a giving mood. It is the Christmas season, after all. I could help you—and discreetly—for a price."

The suspicion returned to Draco's voice. "And what the hell do you want from me? If it's money, I can afford it, but I know you. You don't care for being bought."

"You're right; I don't have much respect for people who can be bought, either. But one day, I'll call for a favour from you, and you better damn well take it, or you'll end up in my debt the rest of your life, and have to live with it." She grinned at him. "I even have something that will remind you of it, to make sure you keep your promise." She held out her hand palm up, as if to grasp his.

Suspicion turned to fear. "You want me to take and Unbreakable Vow? Like hell! What if I can't help you for some reason, you'd let it kill me?"

Hermione laughed, damn but Draco was funny when he was drunk. He was even more stupid and cowardly than usual. "I think not. We'd need a third person as a witness, and I thin we can both agree that we're the only ones either of us wants to know we're going to help each other in any way." She straightened and shook her hand in the air.

When he still wouldn't do more than stare at the hand frighteningly, Hermione lost her temper. "For god's sake, you're an idiot, boy!" She grabbed his left hand and held it palm-up as well. With her other hand, she pulled her wand out and pressed it lightly against the flesh of his third finger. A small black band of unknown fluid flowed out of the tip and wrapped itself around the finger. When it had circled the digit, it solidified and turned gold.

"What the hell is this, Granger?" When the girl tucked her wand back into some almost invisible pocket of her dress, the Blonde tugged on the ring on his finger. "Why can't I get it off?"

"It won't come off until the debt is repaid, you moron. That's the point of a 'favour,' can't you read the inscription?"

Draco squinted at his hand. "'Until debt do us part.' What does that mean? I thought you said this would be discreet?"

"It's not like its permanent, and no one will be able to see it except you and me, that's a bonus."

"Are you out of your mind? IT LOOKS LIKE A FUCKING WEDDING RING!" He bellowed.

"Would you hush up?" Hermione said. "Do you want the whole school to hear you?"

"No, but what do you think you're doing—"

"Will you ever forget that thing on your finger?"

"Not a chance in hell. But that's not the—"

"And would you do almost anything to get it off?"

"As long as it didn't involve killing myself or fucking you, hell yes."

"Then we haven't a problem, do we? I don't have the power to keep that ring on you, the debt does. After I do for you what I promised, you'll only have to pay back the debt equally, and it will disintegrate."

"I guess this is the part when one of us asks if we've got a deal." Draco spat sarcastically.

"Well, you don't really have a choice in the matter. But if it makes you feel better, I'll teach you the spell and let you do it to me so I keep my word, too."

"Like hell do I want to put a wedding band on your finger!"

Hermione smiled evilly. "Alright, as you wish. But it's going to be hard for me to remember to help you do your favour so you can pay me back and get that ring off of you."

Draco glared holes into the girl, who couldn't help but smirk. She hated the idea just as much as he did. But she could hide it with her glee that Draco was so uncomfortable. Practically begging for her help out of such humiliation, and putting himself under more such embarrassment for that help.

He nodded curtly, and Hermione silently kicked herself and taught him how to use the Debt spell. Soon she had a slightly thinner gold band on her finger, almost identical to his.

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*cackles evilly* Now Hermione and Draco are connected by the bonds of debt! Certainly not love, but not hate either!!!


	7. Chapter 7

An early one from me, brought to you by personal experience. I had a bit of a falling out with a friend yesterday and it wasn't pretty. But I refuse to let an ugly situation bring me down! I wrote this chapter in response to that, and from one nasty fight comes another interesting piece from me to you!

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While Hermione healed Draco's nose, Victor found them with the drinks he'd promised. She had to explain Draco away as a friend—since Victor didn't really know much better he didn't need to know details—and calm down his easily provoked jealousy. Hermione then said she was tired, and asked to be pardoned for the remainder of the evening. Of course her date insisted on walking her to her dorm, and Hermione couldn't refuse.

Just before they rounded the last corner that would bring the Fat Lady into view, Hermione turned to Victor and smiled. "Thank you for a lovely evening, and for walking me." She said.

"It is a pleasure." His thick accent rumbled deeply and Hermione fought the urge to blush.

He was so mature, so much _man_. Even the episode with her friends and the new situation with Malfoy couldn't make her forget it. When they stood before the portrait, she couldn't tear her eyes from his lips. Would he try to kiss her? Hermione's pulse beat heavily in her chest. It wouldn't be her first kiss, but it would be the first from a potential boyfriend, and she was nervous. After a moment of silence, the girl turned towards her "door."

"Oh." She said, startled. "The Fat Lady's gone." She was unsure about whether or not this was a good thing.

"Is something wrong?"

She shook her head to clear it a bit. "No. I mean yes, there is. I can't get in unless she's here to hear the password. I'll just have to wait here until she gets back."

He nodded logically. "Then I will wait with you until she arrives."

"What?" Hermione eyes widened. "That could take all night! I can't let you just stay away from your own bed on my account. Besides, I'm sure you're tired too."

"If I am tired, I can conjure a sleeping bag; one for you too. I cannot leave you here alone tonight."

"For God's sake, I'm in the castle, I'll be fine."

"Hermione," He said her name sternly, and with his accent, it was almost comical.

"Victor?" She batted her eyelashes at him innocently. She was turning this into a game instead of getting frustrated, and though she knew she wouldn't win, she wasn't sure she wanted to.

"I think you are too stubborn." He said, "too stubborn and too strong-willed and much, much too beautiful for your own good."

If Ronald Weasley made a pattern of making Hermione cry, Victor made one of rendering her speechless. She'd been kissed before, and had crushes and now been crushed on, but never in her life had anyone but her parents ever called Hermione beautiful.

Victor grasped Hermione shoulders and kissed her then, when she wasn't expecting it. The only thing she could do was kiss him back. He moved his hands up to cradle her face as he put hers on his chest. There was a little sound, but Hermione ignored it and so did he.

"A-hem!" The Fat lady said louder to get their attention. "Are you quite finished? This is a school, you know. Not the place for such goings-on."

Hermione got over the surprise at having been caught and rolled her eyes. She probably had been trying to get the attention of that handsome wizard in a portrait on the sixth floor and was only jealous now.

"Fairy Lights." She said and the disgruntled Lady swooped upwards. Hermione turned to her date and smiled, blushing. "God night Victor, thank you again." Then she crawled into the Common Room before she could hear his response.

She planned to go straight to the third year's room and give Ginny a play-by-play of the night like she promised—leaving out all details regarding any Slytherins, of course—but it seemed that she was waiting for her. There was someone sitting in a chair in a corner away from the fireplace, so she couldn't see them well, and she could only assume it was her friend waiting up for the only excitement she'd really had all night.

"How was your night?" spoke the figure. But it wasn't Ginny, it was male. Hermione sighed heavily and put her hands on her hips.

"I thought I told you to go to bed." She hissed.

"Did you kiss him?" Ron demanded, standing from his seat and moving towards the fireplace.

"Well I'm going to bed, even if you don't, I'm exhausted." She took two steps before he was on her, grabbing her arm and jerking her to a stop.

"Answer the question!" His voice was low and menacing, unlike Hermione had ever heard from the boy. "Did. You. Kiss. Him."

"What if I did?" She yanked her arm out of his grip, which slackened when she said it. Hermione refused to be intimidated by him, she still had her wand with her, and if he'd had too much to drink by accident, one quick hex could stop him in his tracks.

"I stand by what I said, you're too young."

She snorted. "You're one to talk. It's not like it was my first kiss. You were there for my first kiss, remember?"

"That was different—"

"Yes, you're right, it was different. That kiss was a secret. We promised we wouldn't tell anyone or act like it ever happened. It couldn't change how we were to each other, right?" she glared at him. "This time, I'm allowed to say happily and proudly that I kissed Victor Krum, and he's not afraid that things will change because of it, he's not that kind of _boy_."

Ron had looked like he was about to grab her again, but his arm dropped suddenly. "Why did you let him take you to the dance?"

"Didn't you just hear what I said?"

"You knew I was going to ask you—"

"And you did, remember? But by then I'd already had enough of the way you treat me. The way you asked me was even worse! 'hmm, you're a girl,' yeah, that's real romantic, you twit!"

"It's not like I could really ask you in front of Harry! It's bad enough to keep that kiss a secret from my best bloke, but to ask you out in front of him when he—" He stopped abruptly, for no known reason.

"When he what?" She raised her eyebrows; sure he was just searching for some excuse to stand on.

"When he—he was having so much trouble finding a date for himself." Ron said hurriedly. "To be honest, I was thinking about being a mate and give you over to him to take to the Ball."

Her eyes snapped open. "You _what_? _Give me to him_? I don't recall being your or anyone else's _property_, Ronald Weasley."

"I wasn't going to follow through! Not in the end when I couldn't find anybody."

"You mean anybody _else_."

"There was no way I was not going to ask you, Hermione, you know that. It's depressing still really that no one would go with me."

"I would have gone with you!" She raised her voice above a whisper for the first time since she'd come in. "If you hadn't been such an ass, calling me a robot and making me cry all the time, I would have handed you my companionship on a silver platter!"

"You didn't have to go and date Victor Krum to get your point across." He stared directly into her gaze, which infuriated her.

"You whiny little git! You complain about not having a date, and always being alone, but you're too much of a coward to try to change the fact! Then you blame it all on me when I go and find someone who genuinely cares about me, who isn't afraid of change and commitment, someone who can meet life head on. I'm happy, I'm excited, and you're just jealous and bitter."

Ron didn't miss a beat however, and just narrowed his eyes at her. "You know, I'm starting to wish I'd never asked to take you."

"Don't worry Ronald, you never really asked, and I'm glad you didn't take me. Goodnight, you prick." Hermione walked off and up the stairs calmly, feeling the raw anger at her back from the redhead. He wouldn't talk to her for a week, she knew this, but she really didn't care. She was done crying over him, and every other idiot for a long, long time.

She didn't check in with Ginny like she meant to. The night had taken too much out of her, and Hermione just collapsed into her bed, looking forwards to some sleep before the drama started all over again tomorrow.

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Got any predictions? What will happen next? Did I just put those questions in the wrong order? YOU decide! And review!


	8. Chapter 8

"You think she'd still ticked?"

"Well, she hasn't said a word to me for three days, you'd think she'd calm down by now."

"Well she hasn't said anything to me, either."

"You're the one who had a row with her!"

"… I know, I'm sorry mate, I'm stupid."

"Yeah, well there's nothing we can do now, you made it about as bad as it could get, stirring up the hornet's nest like that. What was the row about anyways?"

"It was nothing, I just asked her if she'd kissed him and I guess she got pissed."

"Did she?"

"I dunno, she started screaming so I can only assume she wasn't happy, what do you mean 'did she?' you twit!"

"I _mean_, did she kiss him?"

"Oh."

"You really are stupid. So, did she kiss him?"

"Yeah…"

A chair moves slightly as it is sat on, the sound repeats for another.

"I'm sorry mate."

"Her first kiss… With him."

"Hey, I've got to tell you something important, this isn't the best time, but it's now or never, I should have told you before, and I'm sorry."

"What is it?"

"Well… Last night… wasn't Hermione's first kiss. I kissed her at the World Cup."

"… What? You're kidding, right, ha ha?"

"'fraid not mate. Like I said, I'm really sorry."

There was a screeching of a chair skidding back.

"Wait, Harry, please listen. I didn't mean for it to happen, it just did. I didn't tell you and told her not to because it would change our friendship. C'mon, sit back down, don't leave in a huff."

"You kissed her at the World Cup."

"Yeah, and I'm sorry I—"

"You knew I liked her last year."

"It was late and I was tired and excited, and she—"

"She what, Ron, did she smash into your lips? Or did you fall? Don't you try to brush it off as an accident. You've done some stupid things, but everything before this was nothing. You knew how I felt, and then you betrayed me anyways."

"Harry, I'm so sorry!" another chair scraped along a cold stone floor. "I'll do anything to have you forgive me. I'll do anything."

"… Get off me, and quit blubbering. Fuck, you know I can't stay pissed at you. But I will try my hardest to stay that way for years if you don't promise me something."

"Anything mate, you got it."

"You're not to kiss her again."

"Done."

"Or ask her out."

"Su-sure"

"Or talk to her about Victor, got it?"

"But mate, he's—"

"He makes her happy, and I can't get mad at him if he didn't know. I can be jealous, but I can't let her know it. I need your help to show her I want her to be happy. Maybe she'll see that and let me make her happy."

"Alright, I'll keep my trap shut."

"That's the smartest thing you've ever said."

Footsteps clap quietly away from the office door, and another door creaks open and shut.

Hermione tried to breathe, and only got in a few shallow gasps. Was she hallucinating? Had someone messed up a potion and left fumes that made her hear things?

The office was empty but for her, and she'd been planning to try the Great Hall for the professor Moody. She hadn't expected to get caught leaving his office alone by two students muttering about how they'd forgotten their bags. When she found out it was Harry and Ron, she'd debated waiting them out, still not willing to speak to them. Then they started talking, about her.

One thing she'd noticed that until the very end of the conversation, neither mentioned her boyfriend by his name, and that seemed to be the only thing that held any purchase in her mind. It was as if the other facts were slipping from reality because they couldn't exist, couldn't be true. If they were, what was her next move? Hermione had almost never been caught in a situation where she didn't know what to do, didn't even know where to start.

Her best friend had a crush on her. Had been crushing on her for a year, and hadn't said anything. And now she knew, but he had no idea.

How was she supposed to treat him? Should she forgive him for being angry because he was jealous? She had a boyfriend, how did that factor in? Should she tell Victor? No, that was stupid, the man could get jealous over toast, and she wanted them to get along. And what about Ginny? Her only girlfriend only had two reasons to even speak to Hermione; her friendship with Harry and her romantic history with Ron. Well part one was heading down the drain, and part two had been trashed already.

The most important question didn't come to mind until hours later when Hermione found herself at a seat in the Great Hall she didn't remember walking to, in front of a half-eaten plate she didn't remember touching. How did she feel about Harry?

That one stumped her. She just didn't understand these emotions. She knew she had them, and knew what they were, she just didn't know how to interpret them into words or action. She needed an unbiased party to help her on this, but she had no idea who that could be. Ginny was her only girl friend, but Hermione couldn't tell her about her crush liking her best girl friend. The only other person she felt comfortable talking with was Victor, and that was worse than Ginny.

She looked at her watch, and when she realised what time it was she remembered she'd made plans with Draco to strategize. It had taken forever to decide on a meeting place and they finally decided on the Divination Tower. No one except Professor Trelawny would be anywhere near there in the evenings after dinner, and even she went off to bed at nine thirty. They had agreed to meet at ten, and of course not tell anyone what went on there. It was ten oh-four.

She took off full speed from what she guessed was her old seat at the library—she didn't remember much past eating dinner—and headed for the tower. When she got up the long flight of stairs the door was already open and Draco sat staring into a crystal ball that had been left out after the last class.

"You're late Granger."

"Only ten minutes, I was preoccupied."

"How can you possibly be preoccupied? How can you even think of anything with that bloody ring on your finger!?"

"It's true, there isn't much in the world worse than being connected with you in any way Malfoy, but there are a few things that are more important." The girl bent her head to take off her shoulder bag.

"Like finding out that Pothead is in love with you?"

Hermione's head snapped up. "How did you know?"

"That he likes you is obvious, the same as the weasel, though I can't account for either of their tastes. And you just told me you'd found out, which was a lucky guess." He smirked. "Would have been luckier if you hadn't figured it out, I might have laughed for the first time in a week."

Hermione sighed heavily. "Just forget it Malfoy, let's get down to it so we can both get out of here and some sleep, alright?"

"I don't want to be in bed sleeping, I want to be fucking my slut."

"Don't refer to Pansy like that, please. She might deserve it, but if you talk to her like that you'll never get her back. Do you know nothing about girls?" She demanded.

Draco smirked again. "I know tons about girls, mostly anatomy though, like where their—"

"Draco!"

"What?"

Hermione glared at the boy. "If you want to fuck around like this all night, we'll never get a plan together, and you'll end up spending the rest of your life with that ring on your finger and no girlfriend. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yeah yeah, no fucking around, got it."

Hermione thought for a minute as she sat down. "No, wait, they way you just said that, maybe…" She trailed off and was suddenly digging through her bag.

"What the hell are you talking about, Granger?"

"Just hold on a minute, I need paper and a quill."

"Are we taking notes?" The blonde asked sceptically.

"In a way, yes."

"You're such a fucking nerd."

Hermione placed the items on the desk before her. "I'm the nerd who's going to get you your life back, so shut up and listen."

She drew two large circles on the paper, one overlapping the other to make a section where the two were part of each other. At the top of each circle she wrote Draco and Pansy's names.

"All right, we know that you and Pansy are pretty different in tastes, you like things that are easy—"

"I like girls that are easy, there's a difference."

"And she doesn't care how difficult it is to obtain, as long as it's high class." She wrote the word "easy" in Draco's circle, and "high-class" in Pansy's. "That Durmstrang she's started dating, his family's pretty rich. He's about as important as Victor, minus the popularity. He's also less of a people person than Victor, which is to say instead of grunting if he's not interested, he gets violent. You're lucky it was Pansy who hit you and not him, he'd have crushed your nose into your skull, killing you."

"What's your point, Granger?"

"My point is that obviously she's decided that he's higher class then you. Or maybe it's because you're no longer a challenge. Either way, we've got to convince her otherwise."

Draco's eyes narrowed, "and how are we supposed to do that?"

She sighed. "I have no idea, it might be the most difficult thing I've ever tried to do. Maybe we can switch the focus from you versus him, to her, versus what you can get."

"Which is…?"

"Give me some time to think on it. But I think we've got something here. I'll send you an owl for tomorrow morning."

"An owl? We'll be twenty feet away from each other!" the blonde scoffed.

"If I put an address on it from somewhere no one but you or I know it'll make it easier to keep this our little secret, okay? How about I send a letter as a witch in Paris?"

"I have family there, so it makes sense."

Hermione smirked. "I thought you would. I'll put details of the identity in the letter and we'll use code words in case someone finds the letters, alright?" She stood to leave, but first pulled out her wand and flicked it at the paper, which burst into flames and shriveled, but didn't scorch the desk of leave ashes as proof of its existence. Then she started out the door and down the stairs, once again surrounded by her own troubles. It was depressing how the moment she was busy fixing someone else's life, her troubles evaporated, and when she was done, they rained down on her and she felt like she had a giant weight on her shoulder.

"Granger?" Malfoy's voice called to her from the doorway above.

"What now, Draco?"

"About the rings…"

She sighed. So far this was all for Draco and no good for her, and he wanted to know another thing that only mattered to him? "I'll admit, maybe putting them on was a bad idea. I promise, I'll ask for something cheap right after getting Pansy back and they'll be gone, alright?" She didn't even turn around when saying this, but she hoped he appreciated it.

He cleared his throat. "What if I wanted to help you now? Would that count as repaying the debt?"

"There's nothing you can help me with, Draco." Hermione was tired of his selfishness. She just wanted to get to bed, and try to sleep.

"I think there is, you won't admit it—not even to yourself—but you do love Potter, don't you?"

She froze, and tried to speak, but all that came out was a croak.

She heard a snicker behind her. "Another lucky guess, but I seem to have a talent for it. Maybe I should teach divination, I'd definitely be better than that quack, Trelawney."

"Or maybe you could just stay out of other people's lives!" Hermione snapped, whipping around and rushing up the stairs. Maybe she'd hit him again, or take a page out of Professor Moody's book and transfigure him, but into something twice as unpleasant. Like a cockroach.

He didn't even cringe when she raised her hand, but his smile had disappeared. "It took you three years to hit me before, and that was deserved, I'll admit. You can't hit me for being right though, because I don't take pleasure out of knowing it, just out of your surprise."

The girl lowered her hand slowly. "What happened to the Draco Malfoy I used to know and despise?"

Shaking his head, Draco said, "I don't know. I think when I lost the girl, I lost my confidence. Otherwise I'd never accept help from a mudblood."

Hermione shrugged. "Well, at least your opinion of me hasn't changed too much. I can trust that."

"And what about you? How can I trust that this is all about getting a favour, or simply knowing that I needed help? Can I trust you to resist the urge to tell your friends about my humiliation?"

"There's really nothing I can say that will make you trust me, is there?"

"There is one thing."  
"Oh yeah?"

"Let me help you now. Say you'll trust your love life in my hands, and I'll trust mine in yours." Again with that serious look that was so foreign to Draco's face. He wasn't sneering, or smirking, outraged or scared. He was honest.

She looked at her feet in the glare of his steel blue eyes, as if they suddenly pierced through her soul. "Let me think about it. I'll give you my answer tomorrow." As she spoke, Hermione tried looking back into those eyes.

They imprisoned her with something she'd never seen before. It wasn't compassion or pride, but understanding. It was impossible for Draco to understand everything about Hermione, but he understood what she was going through right now. As complicated and confusing as it was, he understood.

The one to look away first was her, and she ran down the stairs and away from the tower, a little bit frightened. Putting distance between her and Draco helped her relax, and she remembered that she wasn't supposed to be wandering the halls this late at night. She whispered the password to a half-sleeping Lady and crawled through the hole, grateful that for once no one was in the common room this late. No one would be waiting for her to question what she'd been doing out so late, or start another fight, or worse.

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Not much to say to this, even I'm not 100% sure what's going to happen to Hermione, as for Draco, well… ;)


	9. Chapter 9

Hope you guys like this one, took forever but I'm pretty sure it was worth it. I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters; I just try to look into the deepest parts of their hearts.

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"Morning, Harry." Hermione smiled at the boy sincerely. "Have you eaten breakfast yet?"

"Um, no not yet." Harry looked at her nervously.

"Then let's eat together. I'm sorry I've been avoiding you. I'm going to start working on my temper, I swear."

Harry ran his hands through his hair, still anxious. "Yeah, it's alright. I mean, I'm sorry too, what I said about Victor was out of line. I mean, if he makes you happy then that's what I—"

"Let's not talk about that right now, alright? Let's just go down for breakfast and then off to our classes. When I'm ready to talk about it, I'll talk."

Harry nodded sheepishly, and followed Hermione out to the Great Hall. They sat side by side, eating in silence.

"So, what do you have planned for the weekend?" Harry asked hurriedly.

"Oh, same old same old, studying for exams and such. How about you and Ron?" She replied.

"Well, since there's no Quidditch practice this year, I've started to work on the puzzle piece. I think me and him are coming to a breakthrough." Harry played with his eggs, not eating them, and then looked up suddenly as if about to speak, only to have a newspaper drop in his lap.

Hermione giggled at Harry's surprise. "Mail's here." She said, grinning widely. She bent over her bag beside her, away from Harry so he wouldn't notice what she was doing.

She glanced at the Slytherin table across the great Hall and sure enough, a medium sized, graceful golden barn owl swooped in and landed on the table before Malfoy. He took the letter strapped to the male bird's leg and opened it nonchalantly. A few minutes later, Millicent Bulstrode saw Draco smile slowly, and tried to read over his shoulder. As expected, he folded up the letter while glaring at the girl.

He stood up, out the letter in his pocket, and walked away. Hermione forced herself not to follow him with her eyes, since that what everyone at the Slytherin table was doing. It was a trick that Hermione knew Draco had learned from his father, to draw attention when one wanted it, and direct it elsewhere when necessary.

Hermione was straightening up again when Malfoy turned a quick corner to skirt around the Gryffindor table. He bumped into her bag, knocking the contents to the floor.

"Watch your things, mudblood." Draco hissed. "No mail from the family, Potter?" He smirked to himself. "Oh, that's right, you don't have any."

Hermione watched Harry grind his teeth and make a move to hit Malfoy, but Hermione reached an arm across his chest. "No!" She said, surprised at her own words.

Harry looked puzzled. "Why? You heard him! He's never going to learn unless someone teaches him." He glanced towards Draco, but the boy was gone.

"There are more important things than teaching one idiot how to count to ten without insulting somebody. And if you heard, since Pansy Parkinson and him broke up, he's been in an even more sour mood than normal." Hermione said to cover her odd instinctual behaviour.

"What, are you telling me you feel bad for Malfoy?" Harry looked at her, surprised.

Hermione sighed. "I guess it's just a bit sad. I know he deserved it, but those two seemed made for each other, and to think that something that strong could end, it's just sad." She changed thee subject abruptly. "Well I'm done eating, let's get to Potions before all the good seats are taken."

Harry rolled his eyes. "As if there _are_ any good seats in Snape's classroom."

Ron walked into the classroom two minutes late, and Snape took of ten points from Gryffindor because of it.

"There have been some issues with attendance in my class recently, especially with the Gryffindors of this class." Snape replied to the loud complaints. "Therefore for every minute one of you if late for my class, I will deduct five house points. If more than one of you is late, it will be five points per person per minute."

Hermione had kept quiet about it from the beginning, knowing that any outburst would only cause Professor Snape to take away more points. When she felt Harry about to say something more specific then the other complaints around them, she grabbed his hand to get his attention.

"Not now," Hermione whispered when Harry turned to look into her eyes, "He'll take away more points."

Harry's eyes lost their fire, and she knew he'd listen to her. Then she remembered she still held onto his hand, and looked down quickly to hide her blush as she let go, dropping her arms to her sides.

Professor Snape began the day's lecture, and Hermione promptly forgot the hand-holding incident, hearing only the scrape of quill on paper as everyone took notes, and Draco's voice as he answered most of the questions correctly. Lately Hermione had given up trying to answer the Potions teacher without getting picked on, so she let the favourite of the class get the attention.

"Are you all right Hermione?" Ron asked cautiously after the class. He obviously still didn't know if he was allowed to talk to her yet.

"I'm fine Ron, thanks. Just a little tired I think, I was up pretty late last night studying." Hermione smiled at him the same way she had at Harry earlier. Ron smiled back nervously, but soon enough he relaxed, more assured that she wasn't about to bite his head off.

Harry tried to add on to the conversation, "I noticed you seemed kind of out of it, you looked like you were watching a tennis match, staring at Snape and Malfoy have the entire discussion by themselves."

"What's tennis?" Ron asked, making Hermione giggle a little bit.

"Never mind Ron, it's a muggle sport." She said, smiling humorously. "I just wanted to take a little break from Potions is all."

She changed the subject and kept the atmosphere light for the rest of the day. At first both boys were confused and acted like she could blow at any moment, but soon they settled into an old pattern, the one they'd had years before boys became boys and girls became girls.

In the common room, it was pretty quiet, and Hermione was pretty confused about it until Fred and George ran upstairs and invited the three to a huge snowball fight that was going on outside the school.

"You want to join, Hermione?" Fred smiled at the younger girl.

She smiled back. "No thanks, I um, have other plans today."

"Another date with our buddy Krum?" George asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Hermione blushed heavily. "Um, yes." She squeaked. "He said he was going to make me dinner at the ship."

Fed's beam got even larger. "If the ship starts a-rocking don't come a-knocking hey Hermione?"

"It's not like that." Hermione said loudly. She could feel the anger from the two best friends, and wished she could reverse what had just happened. "I have an Ancient Runes test to study for tonight, so I'll be leaving right afterwards." The lie wasn't a complete one—she did have to study, she just wasn't going to. Thanks to Draco, Hermione had been getting behind on her normal routine.

"Well then, let's not trouble the lady before her big night out," George bowed obscenely and Fred followed his lead. "Us men will take our leave for the battle front, and hope to see your beautiful face again after the bloody war." They stood and Fred grabbed Harry while George took Ron's arm and dragged them out the portrait hole.

"Hey Hermione, what's going on?" Ginny jumped the last two steps from the girls' dorms. She was dressed in an outfit that must have seemed to the young with as an attractive muggle look, but to Hermione screamed out for help.

"What are you wearing?" The girl looked at her friend, horrified. "Halloween's over, you know."

Ginny looked at her friend, horrified. "Do I look that bad? Oh, I tried so hard, too."

Hermione giggled. "I don't think I have seen that many ruffles on a dress since Ron's dress robes."

"It's not very cute, is it? Not even date worthy." Ginny looked so sad, Hermione felt she had to do something.

"You've got a date?" Hermione said, "with who?"

"His name's Michael. He's a Ravenclaw, and he wants to sneak me out to a muggle restaurant tonight." She blushed and stared at her feet.

Hermione beamed. She was glad Ginny had taken her advice, but knew better than to say it out loud. "Well, I usually don't approve of rule-breaking, but if you really like this boy, the least I can do is lend you some clothes for your date."

The redhead looked hopeful. "You think you can help me? Since my parent's don't know much about muggle fashion, it's hard to get nice clothes."

"No problem, I think I have the perfect outfit for you, it's too small for me, so it should fit your smaller build. You can keep it, and some other things too, if they fit."

The girls ran up to Hermione's dorm, where she started rummaging through the bottom part of her dresser. "I know it's in here somewhere, it'll look fantastic against your red hair. Ah-hah!" She pulled out a small tank-top, forest green with sparkles along the low-cut top.

Ginny looked at it, her eyes shining. "It's so pretty!" She said, reaching out to touch it. "Can I really keep it?"

Hermione smiled. "Of course, but try it on first. I think your boobs would look best in something tight like that. They're small, but if you wear the right bra…" She pulled out a pink one and a pair of jeans from the same place. "This one should be your size, and I can't wear these jeans anymore, so try them all on and let me take a look."

She watched Ginny run off to the bathroom and kept looking around for all the things she'd grown out of that would suit the girl. By the time the redhead stepped out of the bathroom Hermione had a small pile of things folded up and ready to take down to Ginny's dorm.

Ginny spun around in a neat circle. "How do I look?" She asked nervously.

Hermione grinned, and pointed to the full length mirror to her right. "Come take a look."

She did, and when she saw herself, the girl's eyes went wide. "Wow."

"Wait, let's fix your hair." Hermione turned the younger girl around. "Take out your pony tail and flip your hair."

"Do what to my hair?"

"Just tilt your head down so your hair is over your face." When the girl obeyed, Hermione grabbed a spray can from the top of her dresser. "Now close your moth and eyes, this'll just take a second."

She sprayed a bit of the hairspray along Ginny's red hair, and ordered the girl stand up again, throwing her hair back. "Now," She said, putting the can away and fiddling with a few stray bits of Ginny's hair. "Take a look."

The girl's jaw dropped. "I look… Older, and pretty."

"Ginny, you're gorgeous. If you were a bit taller you could walk into a fashion show and they would beg you to model their clothes." Hermione said confidently, "I know you're not used to high heels, so I'd recommend a pair of flats. What's your shoe size?"

Instead of answering, Ginny turned around and hugged Hermione with all her might. "Thank you so much, you really are the best friend a girl could ask for." She whispered.

Hermione smiled, but inside she was thinking, "if only you knew that we both loved the same boy."

Ginny left for her date, and Hermione got ready for hers. When she was finished getting dressed, she looked out the window and saw the snow "battle" from her high tower. Sighing heavily, she left her dorm room and crawled out of the portrait hole, where Victor was waiting for her, as handsome and gentle as ever.

As they walked out towards the black lake, Hermione thought of the snowball fight on the other side of the castle, and Ginny somewhere with her new boyfriend, probably walking hand in hand just like she was with Victor now.

As much as she'd tried today to make things go back, Hermione knew it was hopeless. Boys had become boys who were almost men and girls were growing into women, and there was no way to go back to being just friends ever again.

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*Sigh* it really is true, when we grow up we can't help but feel depressed at the thought of what we're losing, can we? Read and review, reading your reviews is my second favourite part about writing this fanfic!


	10. Chapter 10

Allright, I know it's been too long since I updated any of my stories, so I've been staying up uuber-late to finish these and put them up for you guys. Remember that I don't own any of the characters, just the plot. This chapter was meant to bring back the whole "Hermione-Draco" thing I promised earlier. Enjoy!

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Every minute Hermione felt she could sneak to look over her book across the table, she took. He was snoring contentedly in an overstuffed armchair, the gold egg clue in his lap.

"Hermione, can we talk?" The girl jumped at the voice behind her. She turned around to face Ron.

"S-sure, Ron, not a problem." She got out of her chair, leaving her book open on the table beside her. "What's up?" She asked when he'd pulled her to one side of the Common Room, away from the sleeping Harry.

"Nothing. I mean, nothing with me, but uh…" He looked around the empty room suspiciously.

Hermione tapped her foot impatiently. "If you're going to say anything of interest any time soon, I'd like to hear it now, Ron."

"It's about Harry, there are a couple of things, really."

"I already know he hasn't really figured out the egg. He hasn't even really been working on it, what else have you got?"

"If you already knew, why haven't you been offering to help?"

"If Harry needs help, he should ask for it."

Ron looked down at his feet. "I'm not supposed to talk about this, but uh, how are things with you and Krum?"

The question threw Hermione off. "I, uh, I mean we're doing alright, I guess. He's really sweet, and that's what's important. Why do you ask?"

"Well, this isn't really something I should be talking about, but you know, you're my mate and all, and so is—"

"I know Harry likes me." Hermione knew what this was about now.

"Shh!" Ron hushed, and then whispered. "Don't let him here you, he'll kill me. How do you know?"

"I overheard you and Harry talking outside Professor Moody's office the other day. So to answer your question: No I don't think Krum and I are going to break up anytime soon, and it really doesn't have anything to do with how I might or might not feel towards him, and it really isn't any of your business how I feel towards Harry, because it would only change how we are to each other, and I can't do that." Hermione whispered harshly.

Ron's mouth dropped. "You like him too, don't you?"

She was getting tired of this whole conversation. "I am with Victor, and I care about him, very much. I'm not going to risk that or any friendship I have by telling my best friend that I might fancy him, and you'd do well to remember that."

"You do like him Hermione," Ron said, louder than the whisper he'd been using. Hermione heard soft footsteps coming down the stairs just beside her and realized someone was coming from the girl's dorms, but she couldn't stop Ron before he said it out loud. "You like Harry, and you know he fancies you too."

The steps stopped for a minute, and Hermione was terrified that one of the more gossipy girls had just over heard what was going on, but she was prepared to deal with rumours, whether or not they were true. She wasn't prepared for the red-headed blur running past her and out the portrait hole.

"Shit, Ginny." Hermione whispered. She started after her, not sure what she would do, but knowing she had to do something. Ron caught her arm and held her.

"You're going to leave this now? You won't help him with the egg, you won't tell him you like him, you're just going to leave things the way they are?" He stared at her seriously. "I'm not the smartest guy out there, but that sounds just a bit gutless to me."

"Would you let me go?" Hermione hissed, yanking her arm away. "How could I do anything about Harry when she feels the way she does? It'd really be gutless to betray her like that. She's my friend Ron, just like you and Harry, though I'm pretty sure she won't want that anymore, thanks to you." She turned away and ran to the portrait hole. Right before leaving, she stopped to say one last thing to Ron.

"Just because you screwed up with Harry doesn't mean you have to do his dirty work for him. Be your own damn person Ron. We'll talk later." And she left to look for Ginny.

"Hey, have you seen Ginny Weasley? She's a redhead third year, Gryffindor?" Hermione asked almost everyone she passed, but she didn't get anywhere. Ginny had successfully hidden herself from the world.

"Are you looking for our baby sister?" Fred and George Weasley popped up in front of the girl as if they'd apparated, making Hermione jump just a little bit.

"Yeah, I need to talk to her badly. It's almost impossible to find anybody on a Saturday anymore when you have to ask Beauxbatons girls and Durmstrang boys for somebody they've probably never seen before, and wouldn't remember if they had. Have you seen her?"

"Just about a minute ago, she met up with some guy, didn't she George?" Fred asked.

His brother nodded. "Yeah, she looked about ready to cry, but she calmed down a bit after sitting down with him."

"At least, she looked less depressed, and more like just really, really mad." Fred continued.

"About ready to kill, I'd say." George finished.

"That's not exactly 'calmed down' you know." Hermione said.

Both boys shrugged their shoulders. "We're more prepared to handle an angry Ginny than a depressed one." George pointed out.

Fred finished. "If she wants to kill, we can just stay out of the way, if she's crying, we've got to deal with the waterworks."

The witch raised an eyebrow at them both. "When have you ever actually taken care of Ginny when she was upset?" She asked.

"Nope, that's more of mum's job."

"But mum's not here, so I guess it's that Michael guy's job."

Hermione sighed, and that sigh felt like it carried the weight of the world. "Do you know where they went?"

"Nope." The twins said simultaneously.

Hermione walked slowly back to the Common room, thinking that if the twins were right then she probably didn't want to talk to Ginny until she cooled off. She had to meet up with Draco today anyways, and maybe by the time she got back the girl would be ready to talk.

"What's got you down now?"

"I'll ask for a pair of socks or something, and for you to stop prying into my love life." Hermione wouldn't answer him directly, since this whole deal had started because of him anyways, he didn't deserve anything from her, though she would give it to him anyways, or would she? "In fact, I'll diffuse the spell right now? Give me a quill from your bag in exchange for healing your nose at the Yule Ball." She said. "You give me the pencil, and the rings disappear, we go back to our lives as if this never happened, how does that sound?" She asked, instead of sitting at the empty table.

"What are you talking about?" Draco demanded. "Go back to our lives? My girlfriend just dumped me because you couldn't help but brag about your stupid date to the ball! Now I've got letters coming to me every morning from a mysterious witch in Paris who's supposedly in love with me, and people are starting to ask questions! You started all of this, and yet you won't help me finish it?" Draco hit the finishing note that nearly destroyed her heart. "I used to think you were worthless, but being spineless never crossed my mind."

This time she did hit him. Because he deserved it, and because he didn't. "If you ever call me worthless again, I'll hit you so hard you won't know up from down."

He clutched his jaw, wincing. "But you are being spineless, aren't you?"

Hermione stared at him, and she could even feel the anger pouring out of her. "I'll ask for you some socks, for you to stay away from me, and never, _ever _call me worthless again. Is that very clear?" She pulled out the chair, waiting for him to agree.

"What's with you, Granger? You must be the only mudblood in the whole school who isn't scared of me, and not just with the two witless wonders around you."

"I am not worthless, least of all to you Malfoy, so don't forget it. You get involved in my life and suddenly it falls apart, and why should I be surprised? You spoil everything you touch anyways, why should there be an exception this time?"

Draco was confused. "What the hell are you talking about, Granger?"

Hermione sat down. "If you tell me right now that you'll promise to keep your nose out of my business from now on, we can work together. Let's focus on your problems and not mine, shall we?"

She pulled out a few letters from her bag, and spread them out in front of her. "I've been getting these responses from you at around midnight, like we agreed, so there hasn't been a problem there. What kind of questions are people asking? I explained how you met Rachelle when you were seven on a tour of Europe with your mother, and why no girl from Beauxbatons has heard of her since she's home-schooled, I thought we had the bases covered?"

"I need a picture of her, or something. Pansy's gotten interested in the situation like we planned, but I don't know what to say about how Rachelle looks, and eventually they're going to want proof that she's as beautiful as I would say she is. There are also questions on if she's ever going to visit Hogwarts. Christmas holidays are almost over, but wouldn't it be acceptable for Rachelle to fly down during the next holiday, or even on a weekend since Paris isn't too far?"

Hermione thought in silence for a long time. Normally she'd tell him she'd sleep on it and write a letter in the morning explaining her solution in either code words he understood or by the letter itself. But tonight she didn't feel like going back to the dorms and dealing with Ginny right away.

"I think I've got it, but it will take a few days, maybe a week. I have to send an owl to a friend back home. Let's agree on the appearance right now and I'll write the letter. With any luck we can have a picture here and enchanted to move so it'll look realistic."

"Who's your friend and what are they going to do?" Draco asked after they wrote down a bunch of details about his "dream girl."

Hermione hoped he wouldn't freak out too much about what she was about to explain. "You know how you use magic for almost everything, and think that it's nearly impossible to do anything without it? Well there are some things that even magic can't do, at least not currently, and probably won't ever be able to do as long as wizards with prejudiced witches and wizards like you have their way."

Draco looked like he might say something rude, but his curiosity beat it. "You mean there's a muggle contraption that can invent a person that doesn't exist in reality?" He asked in shock.

"Actually, my friend can only make an image of someone that doesn't exist. But she can make a very real image, not like some portrait that you'd probably need a model for anyway. She can do it with something called a computer, and once she sends me the image and we enchant it, I'll use magic and that image to do anything else we need."

That wasn't quite enough for Draco, and Hermione ended up spending three hours explaining what she could about computers and the programs her friend would use to their ends. By the time he let the witch leave because she was yawning in the middle of every other sentence, Hermione knew she'd never be able to talk to Ginny that night. The girl was a heavier sleeper than an anvil on Lunesta.

"Oh, and Hermione?" Draco said as they separated for the night.

"It's Granger." She said tiredly.

"I was actually just about to ask if I could call you that. It makes it easier to thank you, it sounds less phoney."

If she wasn't so tired, she would have been shocked. Instead, she decided to quote one of her favourite movies. "I'll only help you if you promise something." She said.

"I thought I wouldn't call you names anymore?" He said. "What's with all the demands?"

"You never actually promised anything, but just play along, for my sake, it's supposed to be a joke. I say 'I'll help you if you promise me something.' And you say, 'what is it? I'll do anything.'" She looked at him, fighting back another yawn. She might have looked like a constipated walrus but she didn't care. At the moment, getting that quote out of Draco Malfoy might just make up for every nasty thing he'd ever done to her, and more.

He sighed, annoyed but not enough to object. "What is it? I'll do anything."

Hermione smiled slightly. "Now I say, 'You have to promise, you won't fall in love with me.'"

Draco scoffed, and then smirked. "That's not going to be a problem." He said non-chalantly.

Hermione smiled back. "Exactly. You sure you haven't seen the movie before? Well, I guess if you had, you'd be a bit more worried about what you just implied." Then she walked out of the room, and barely made it to her bed before passing out.

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I swear, if there is a single reader who hasn't seen "A Walk to Remember" I will freak! It was such a good movie!!!! Anyways, review if there's anything I might have missed. BTW: I know the quote isn't exact, for all you obsessed fans out there, but I couldn't quite work it in with the situation, it just didn't fit right. So I moded it a little bit while still keeping the point of it the same. You still gotta love foreshadowing! Especially when it's from an author who keeps ya guessing!


	11. Chapter 11

Here's a chapter where things start to get hot! And that Dramione I've promised everyone is beginning to resurface!

I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

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Hermione didn't see Ginny at breakfast the next day, and she'd promised Victor she'd meet up with him in the library around six. All they ever did lately was sit around that library, and he watched her study. The one and only real "date" they ever went on was when he'd make her dinner on the ship. That was nearly a month ago, and though she'd appreciated him being a perfect gentleman, she felt that even their good-bye kisses had become chaste. He was three years older than her and not taking advantage of that was very chivalrous, but Hermione had started to have these dreams, ones that made her blush every time she remembered them, and ones that had often had nothing to do with Victor.

Today she would change that however. Maybe Hermione couldn't help what she dreamed about, but maybe it would at least turn the subject of her dreams to her boyfriend if she tried to act one out. Maybe she'd stop feeling like she might have made a mistake if she could only get Victor to act on his hormones.

"Hey," She said, smiling at the boy when she met him at their regular table in the back. "So, what's the plan for today?" She asked, giving him the opportunity to change the pattern.

Victor looked a bit surprised, and then shrugged. "I know you usually study in the evening on Sundays, and I didn't want to interrupt your schedule, so I thought we'd just stay here."

Hermione was ready for this. "Oh." She looked disappointed. "Well, I didn't have anything to do tonight since I worked most of the day, and so I left my things back at the dorm. I thought it would be a nice way to end the holidays by taking a break from studying and spending the evening with you." She smiled in that way she'd practised in the mirror, and she was sure it would melt his heart.

Victor blinked once, and Hermione knew it'd worked. "Well, what do you want to do?" He asked politely.

She was ready for this, too. "I actually would love to take a walk around the grounds, and maybe watch the sunset." Once again the smile she'd perfected, and he was hooked.

"Alright." He took her hand, and they walked out together.

They made it to a small hill that was sheltered by a huge pine from snow, and faced the sunset perfectly. Victor, the perfect gentleman, conjured up a large blanket for them to sit on, as well as a container of hot chocolate and some flowers.

"Victor," Hermione said, "You know just what to conjure for a girl."

The man shrugged, but smiled shyly at her anyways. She stared into his eyes, hazel and beautifully warm, bathing her in a love that she felt coming from him. She took a step closer to him instead of sitting down, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Thank you, this is really sweet." She said, looking up at him, her glance slipping once to his lips, which were somehow the only thing about him that didn't quite look masculine, but were still incredibly attractive.

He smiled, putting his hands on her hips. She pulled herself up to kiss him, starting out slow and sweet, but when he made no move to change the tempo, Hermione opened her mouth slightly and licked his lips, silently asking permission for entrance. She felt a shock go through her as he slid his own tongue into her mouth, and as they tasted each other, Hermione thought she couldn't be happier. Victor broke off the kiss a moment later though, and gestured for her to sit. Hermione positioned herself on the blanket so that he could sit behind her, and she could lean on him if she wanted.

Unfortunately, Victor didn't get that hint, and sat beside her, his knee the only thing touching hers, once again the perfect gentleman. Hermione sighed and watched her breath come out in a steamy cloud. She never saw him take off his cloak, but she felt him put it over her shoulders, so she turned around.

"That's no good, you'll get cold too," She said, and put the cloak over his shoulders. Then she moved and sat in his lap, wrapping the cloak around the both of them. "There, now we'll both stay warm."

Slowly the sun stared to go down, and the streams of cloud caught the reflection and turned the sky into a quilt of beautiful colors. Hermione leaned her head into Victor's chest, closing her eyes for just a second, just feeling his strength behind her. He had his hands on his knees, and when she touched them he turned them up to hold hers, which made it easy enough for Hermione to move them to wrap around her waist. When Victor didn't protest, she let go of his hands and let them hold her close, leaving her free to turn her head and kiss him deeply.

After a few minutes of serious kissing, Hermione broke it off, "I think I'm falling in love with you." She gasped, "I think I want to take the next step, with you." She watched his eyes, hoping he would understand, hoping he wouldn't tell her she was too young.

His eyes, as always, revealed little but the tender love he had for her. "I do love you." He said, and Hermione knew it was true. "Are you sure you are ready? I myself have never taken a lover before."

Hermione was shocked. Victor Krum, a virgin? He was seventeen, and a huge celebrity! The idea of being his first as well as him being hers made Hermione believe that they were simply meant to be. "Yes, I'm ready; can we go to your ship tonight?"

Victor kissed her tenderly, holding her close to him, and once again Hermione felt enveloped in warmth. "If you are sure, then I can take you to my cabin, but you can't stay the night, you do have classes in the morning." He said. "Or else I would have you to myself all night long." He held her like he never wanted to let go, and Hermione just closed her eyes.

* * * * *

It was nearly midnight when Hermione crawled back through the portrait hole. She sighed heavily with relief when she found that no one was waiting for her in the common room for once. Up the stairs she creeped, hoping not to wake anyone, but when she past the third-years dorm, she stopped. There was a small noise coming from the room, and Hermione thought she knew what it was. She opened the door and stepped in, as silently as she could.

All the other girls looked like they were peacefully asleep, except one, and Hermione swallowed hard when she knew that she had to do it sooner or later, and now was probably as good a time as ever to talk to Ginny.

"I didn't mean for you to find out," She said quietly, getting that part out of the way. "I didn't want you to feel so hurt."

"What, were you just supposed to wait until you started dating him and I caught you two snogging in the common room?" She sniffed loudly, and Hermione was glad that the redhead's dorm-mates were heavy sleepers.

"I would never do that to you, Ginny, ever." She took a testing step towards the four poster bed, and sat on the corner beside the girl, who sat up slowly to face her. Hermione knew what her ace looked like, but was glad for the darkness that hid it just the same.

"You're only saying that because of Victor, and to stop me from crying." Ginny said bitterly. "You fancy him, and at least he likes you back. Don't deny you wouldn't snog him if you had the chance."

Hermione thought about it, and the harder she thought, she just couldn't picture being with Harry in any way except the way they already were. "I might, if there wasn't this great person that I know, who has been there for me throughout everything, even when I was so angry and couldn't even look at or speak to anyone else, she held my hand and let me be angry. I could never imagine being separated from her for any reason, and the thought of a boy tearing us apart is simply laughable. I love her more than I could ever love any boy, and Harry Potter is no exception."

Ginny sat there silently, and Hermione hoped the girl knew she meant it. The redhead lifted herself to her knees, and threw herself onto the girl in a tackle-hug, almost knocking Hermione over.

"Thank you." She whispered into Hermione's ear, and the girl smiled, hugging back.

"So you're not going to dump Victor for Harry and start snogging him in the Common Room?" Ginny asked, even though she knew that was the case.

"Nearly the opposite. I just got back from Victor's ship, and we… I told him I loved him and we decided that we were ready to take the next step."

Ginny gasped. "You didn't!" She squealed.

Hermione nodded, "Now be quiet or you'll wake the whole dorm!" She whispered. "We'll talk about it later, right now I'm going to bed, we've both got classes in the morning and you should get some sleep to, alright?"

Ginny sounded sullen. "All right." She said. "But meet me for breakfast and you'd better spill all, got it?"

Hermione promised she would tell Ginny everything she wanted to know and headed off to her dorm. There was an owl on her bed, looking rather impatient and held it's leg out to her.

_Damn, I completely forgot about Draco's letter! _Hermione rolled her eyes. _I guess I don't have a choice but to send a reply ready for the morning, I wonder what this one says. _Like all the ones before it, this one was addressed to Rachelle, Draco's made-up lover and Hermione's alias, and written in code so that anyone reading it would just think he was sending his love to the witch.

_Dear Rachelle,_

_I have been thinking of you every day. There is a string tied around my finger that reminds me of our bond, and I wonder when I can meet with you and see your beautiful face again. I fear it might be too long and my resolve may begin to falter, but I have put my trust in you as I have since the day we made our promise, and I have faith that you will find a way to show me your beauty._

_It would help ease the pain of being away from you love, if I could see your face in some small way, a portrait or a photo would suffice, one that I could show to my peers and prove your beauty makes all others here pale in comparison. I would boast of it with confidence if only I had some proof to sway the imbeciles who doubt you._

_The last time we met, you quoted a book, those lines have been repeated in my head since then, and I am afraid they will not budge. It would also be a relief to know the title of the book you quoted so perfectly, so that I may know of a deeper meaning in your words. Could you perhaps meant something more even than the promises you made to me to help a poor soul in search of love? My heart thunders in my head for fear that I might get in over my head, and more for fear that it is already so. Please, reply hastily, for my mind itches to read your words and my eyes to see your print, I must have answers!_

_Yours as long as you'll have me,_

_Draco Malfoy._

Hermione laughed to herself as her mind looked past the sickeningly sweet fluff and instead concentrated on what she was meant to read. He touched on the request for an image, which they'd already gone over and Hermione was expecting to hear back from her friend by tomorrow night, and also on the point that they need to find a way to bring Rachelle to life long enough to visit the castle and have Pansy see that Draco had found someone so much more pretty than her that she would instantly turn green.

The string represented the ring, the "vows" the deal they'd struck. Draco was telling her he was still being chafed by seeing the thing every day, and was hoping to get this over with soon so that he could have Pansy back and they could back to acting like they'd never met each other. He was saying that it's possible that simply meeting Rachelle might throw Pansy into the fit of raging jealousy that they needed.

But did Draco seriously want to know about the quote from the movie she'd mentioned the other night? Hermione shook her head, there was no way she'd actually meant what she'd said last night, it was a joke. Didn't Draco get that? She'd told him it was a joke, so it didn't even matter that he knew what movie it was from—it's not like he was going to watch it or anything, movies were muggle inventions, and they didn't even have the equipment to watch one there!

She penned a hasty reply, filled with the same kind of fluff as his, telling him he'd get the image soon, but that it might take some time to get a replica of Rachelle to the castle. She told him what the "book" was called, but tittered on like a ditz that it was only for a giggle that she'd done it, it was simply to sound clever, nothing more. When she was almost finished, Hermione was about to sign it with something equally ditzy, but a glimmer from her finger made her freeze.

Had she really not noticed the ring on her finger until now? How had she gone on with her life without looking down at it and inspiring odd questions? She wasn't a great liar, it was surprising even to her that she'd gotten away with this for the last three weeks, so how did she act like she wasn't totally disgusted with herself for getting into this deal? Draco obviously did every day, though he didn't act like it when they met in secret. In fact he hadn't done anything really awful to her—with the exception of last night—for two and a half weeks now. Even when they saw each other in the hallways, they avoided each other's eyes, but Hermione noticed sometimes that he looked at her during Potions class when he thought no one else noticed.

She signed the letter and added a last note that she wouldn't be able to meet with him in person for a while, so putting as much information in the letters was important. Hermione had noticed that lately there had been more teachers patrolling the hallways at night, and every once in a while Ron or Harry would be in the common room when she got back. The former to pester her with questions and try to tell her that Harry liked her, which she avoided talking about at all costs, and the latter asleep with the golden egg in his lap. When it was Ron she'd run off to bed without saying a word, and when it was Harry she'd always wake him up and send him off to bed proper. Usually while Harry was half asleep he would insist that he'd gotten the clue figured out, and end his sentence with something like "banshee's panties."

Finally satisfied with her letter, Hermione rolled it up and sent the owl off before slipping into the covers and not bothering to change clothes. Memories of her night with Victor flickered around her mind, but her dream were somehow filled with golden rings and steely blue eyes that saw more than they should, and revealed nothing in return.

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Review plz!!!


	12. Chapter 12

And how I warn you the story starts to pull away from following the books like I have been, and into my own story, Enjoy!

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Hermione stared out the window, gazing at the beauty of early spring, and wishing she felt the same then as she had last year. Back when she still had a childish crush on Harry Potter, and Draco Malfoy was the enemy, though mostly only a pain in the neck. When the only secrets she had to keep were ones that protected lives, not just reputations. When she felt some kind of connection to the person who saved her life, and she knew exactly what she was feeling when she was feeling it.

"…mione," the voice came almost from memory, but who's voice was it?

"Hermione," It repeated. It couldn't be Ron's, his and Harry's were still cracking, and this one was deep and low, almost like Victor's. Could it be him? His accent was almost gone now, and—

"Hermione!" Two hands clapped in front of her face, making the girl jump. "Damn, I've been trying to break you out of that trance for five minutes now!" the boy drawled. "Why is it every time we meet you've got something else on your mind?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "First, we haven't met in over a month, so that argument doesn't say much. Second, I'm a complex person with complex thoughts, so keep your nose out of it, and third, how would you feel if you'd just spent most of the morning unconscious at the bottom of a lake!"

Draco raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing. "Hey! Sorry, sorry." The he took the seat across from her. "So, care to explain why you've been avoiding me for so long, and then finally agree to meet with me today?" He leaned over close, his chin resting in his hand.

"You're the one who's late for once, were you collecting some winnings?" he raised her eyebrow at the boy.

She'd explained in letters about her being trapped in her common room at night, and she knew he'd understood. Was he just trying to make conversation before they got down to business? She wondered if after everything that was happening between them that they still couldn't scrounge up a decent friendship. He was even treating her like a person, instead of a snail on his shoe.

"I don't make bets, I don't see the point in gambling."

"Plus it's not like you need the money." Hermione pointed out.

Draco raised one eyebrow. "I had relatives who squandered away their wealth, and I'd rather not have it happen again to some idiot who cares to bet against me." He drawled.

"Still as modest as ever, I see. Shall we get down to it? I have good news." Hermione said, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

"Ah, my favourite kind" He replied. "I was actually kind of impressed with the photo you're friend developed, very beautiful and well done in a background of Paris. The enchantment to make it move," Draco smiled to himself. "She acted real, and regal."

"That's because she is real." Hermione said. "The picture was actually of a girl me and my friend both know well, and she did spend some time in France last summer, so the picture wasn't hard to get a hold of. The good news I have is regarding her and something I've been working on for nearly a month."

"That, and having an actual social life." Draco complained. "While I'm living mine on paper with some woman who doesn't exist who's really a witch I'm attached to through this stupid ring."

Hermione sighed heavily. "Are we back to that? You know what? If you'll shut up and listen to me for just a second I'll tell you that you'll only have to wait a few more days till you can have your precious Pansy back and be gone from my life for good."

"Awe come on Hermione, I didn't mean it like that." Draco said, frowning. "I just meant it's a weird feeling looking down on something I never really saw myself wearing, and thinking about the one person I'd never really thought about before."

"I used to see you, and you'd sneer and insult me, my friends, and everything I believe in. Now I walk past you and you don't say a word, you don't call me mudblood, you don't even insult any other of the muggle-borns here any more. But you still insult Ron, and you won't put a stop to those _Potter Stinks_ campaigns. I wonder if you've really changed, or you're just trying to make me think that you are so that I'll help you." She leaned in closer to him, close enough that he could smell his clean breath. "Tell me, are you the same Draco who only cares about his father's approval, his snobby reputation, and having a slut between his legs?"

Draco pulled his face away from hers. "Just tell me what you've got, Granger, and I'll tell you what I want."

"When I found out that we had a real subject for Rachelle, I asked for a sample of hair from my friend. She thought it was odd, but got it for me anyways, and I started working on a Polyjuice potion. Snape's been keeping an extra eye on his stores lately, so I had to dip into my savings a bit and get the ingredients from a catalogue. You'll be paying me back in full, by the way." Hermione said, eying the young wizard, who nodded.

She continued, "It took a while, but the potion should be ready by next weekend. I can send a letter from Rachelle explaining that she's been allowed to leave her home for a weekend and travel to see you for the weekend. I also have one on the way from home asking me to return to attend the burial and wake of my great-grandfather Charles Granger. I'll leave Friday morning, Arrive back here Saturday morning as Rachelle, who will leave Sunday evening so that I can return Monday for dinner without anyone noticing a thing."

Draco didn't speak for a moment. "I am going to say this once, and only once, so listen carefully and never ask me to repeat it, all right?" He said finally.

Hermione nodded, wondering what he might say.

He cleared his throat, then said. "Hermione, you are brilliant."

"Wow, that must have been really hard for you," Hermione said sarcastically. "Have you got any questions?"

"Just Two; first, do you have to be the one to play Rachelle?" He said. "Not that you're bad choice it's just the idea…"

Hermione smiled knowingly. "Yes it has to be me, because we're fortunate enough that I'm the only other person who knows exactly what's in the letters that were sent, and we don't want the unfortunate thing to happen that someone else might know that she's not actually real. Also, if you're right and Pansy goes all nuts on Rachelle, it'll fulfill my dream of always wanting to kick her pug-faced ass." Then she added. "No offence."

Draco looked about to say something, then shook his head and asked his second question: "Have you given any thought to where you'd be staying? There isn't really any room in the castle because of the Beauxbatons students, and since I'm only just turning fifteen next Saturday and Rachelle is sixteen, it wouldn't be appropriate to have her stay in my room."

Hermione cursed herself. "Shit, I hadn't though of it. Wait, did you say you were turning fifteen on Saturday? Why didn't you tell me your birthday was coming up?"

"Why do you care? It's got nothing to do with what we've been doing." His drawl was back, the snobby, couldn't-give-a-shit tone Draco had when he was trying to sound cool.

The witch shook her head slowly. Had she really thought they might be able to be friends? Impossible, especially with his attitude. "I only meant that it was the kind of thing Rachelle should know, it'd be a great excuse for her to come down to see you, and an even better one if she arranged a large party in your honour, inviting all Slytherins, including a certain girl we both know?" She waggled both eyebrows suggestively, grinning at herself.

Draco laughed. "All right, if you think it'll help us, then I'll lend you the money to throw a party for me, if you find the place that's not Hogwarts castle."

"How about the Three Broomsticks?" Hermione suggested. "It's close by, and not too shabby."

Draco thought about it for a moment. "It'll do on short notice," He said, shrugging. "Now we can get to the real hard work; figuring out your love life." He smirked. "So you shagged Victor, and he was your first, yeah?"

"Do I even want to know how you know these things?"

"Probably not."

"It's none of your business Draco, I told you to stay out of it."

"And you're now confused because you're supposed to feel closer to him, but instead you just feel like you've lost something important, right?"

"I swear Draco, if I find out you're using Occlumency on me I'll kill you."

"Using what?"

"Never mind. I should go, Dinner's probably ready. You can leave about twenty minutes after me, which should be safe."

"You aren't going anywhere until you stop making me figure you out on my own and start talking Hermione."

_Damn, almost made it out. He'll only snoop into your life more if you don't talk._ She reasoned, and sat back down. "So you know pretty much everything, what do you think you're missing?"

Draco looked at her seriously. "Maybe how the hell you would do something like that in the first place? The Hermione Granger I know wouldn't sleep with anybody after dating them for two months. Hell, you're only fourteen! I bet he was even your first kiss!"

Hermione had to stand up for herself. "I'll be fifteen in a month, thank you, and he wasn't my first kiss, my first kiss happened before I even met Victor."

"Why'd you do it?" Draco asked seriously. "Why'd you let him take your innocence away?"

He sounded like Ron! "I wanted it, as much as he did." Hermione said, clenching her fists. "I don't regret it, it was what I wanted." Now her teeth were clenched, but she wasn't angry with Draco.

"Did you? Or did you want to be part of a world that you weren't ready for?"

"Seriously, half the time you're an ass, the other half your Dr. effing Phil. Who are you?" She said, still confused about everything, and now her head was starting to hurt. She put her fingers to her temples, rubbing them gently.

Draco sighed. "You asked me what was important to me, and I've got to tell you I don't know any more. At first, getting Pansy back was the only thing that mattered, because she meant my reputation, my father's approval, everything you said I really cared about. Then it was getting rid of this stupid ring, which I have to say I hate, yellow gold just isn't my color. Now I want to get this over with so that I can stop lying to everyone and then figure out what my life really means now, after everything's changed."

Hermione looked up at him, he really did look stressed. "Did everything change because I bragged to Pansy about going to the Ball with Victor? It was my fault, wasn't it?" She dropped her hands and her ha on the table.

"No, it wasn't then. I could have gotten her back even without your help, if I'd been willing to wait till the end of the year. But I'm not naturally a patient person, as you've been able to tell. I do things as I feel them, and don't wait for anyone's permission. Not even my father's, as scary a notion as it is."

"So when did everything change for you?" Hermione asked.

"Around the same time everything changed for you. You had a boyfriend, started to get over childish fancies, and developed an interest for the thing you used to hate. Or should I say the person." Draco said. "No, I'm not assuming you have romantic feelings for me Hermione, but you and I both know you don't think it would be too terrible if we could be friends."

"We weren't talking about when I changed, when and how did everything change for you?" Hermione pressed, not denying that her thoughts and his were identical.

"I thought I was grown up, that I knew more than others because I'd lived through things that they wouldn't even understand for years. Then came a time when I saw that I wasn't any more mature than anyone around me. In fact I was less mature for not taking the time to feel my way through my actions the way a child growing up should do."

"See? There you go with the Dr. Phil stuff again. But all right, I'll play along." Hermione shrugged, she would know the truth either way.

"I just meant that watching you live through the world in-between, made me realize that without living through that awkward phase of life, I'd never understand what it was to grow up. I'd always be a child pretending I was an adult." He looked at the girl seriously. "You were trying to do that same thing when you slept with Victor Krum. You thought you could escape that in-between world and land into adulthood without a scratch. It's too bad it didn't work, isn't it?"

Hermione sighed heavily, shaking her head. "So what do I do? Should I just break up with him?"

"That's up to you. You have to figure out what part he plays in your life, and then ask yourself if it's even healthy to have that part in your life, or perhaps it would be better for you to replace it with something that is healthy." He left at that, while Hermione sat at the small table, head in her hands, trying to figure out what Dr. Draco/Phil/Malfoy meant by all of it.

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More insinuated Dramione! That may never happen, but you'll find out eventually!


	13. Chapter 13

"What? Your great grandfather died?" Ginny asked, her eyes full of concern.

Hermione nodded, silently grateful for the Instant Tears spell she's applied earlier that evening. Her eyes were even slightly puffy as if she'd been crying all day. "I got the owl this morning, but I didn't want anybody to worry about me during class."

"That would explain why you were so quiet today in Potions." Harry said, putting a hand on his friend's arm. "You shouldn't have even gone to class if you felt so awful. You should have talked to us earlier."

"I didn't want to miss the review today, and since I'll be gone until Monday evening, I wanted to pick up the work I'd be missing." She pointed to her bag, which was stuffed twice as much as usual, and sniffed loudly.

Ron whistled. "Wow, that's a lot." The red-headed boy looked pretty uncomfortable around the crying Hermione however, and had avoided touching Hermione or sitting near her to comfort her in any way.

"When are you leaving?" Ginny asked.

Now was the _piece de resistance_, if Hermione could pull this off, she wouldn't have to worry about being caught at anytime. "Tomorrow morning." She said, and inhaled deeply, shaking the breath as if she had trouble choking back sobs. "But I still have to t-tell Vic-victor." She even made the name sound a bit like a hiccough, and then made a move to stand up shakily.

Ginny jumped up to her friend's rescue. "I'll tell him, I think it's better if I do anyways. You need some rest, and there's no telling what he'd do if he saw you like this.

Hermione smiled weakly. "Thanks Ginny, I wish I could bring you with me, for the support of a friend, you know."

"Let me help you pack." Harry said hurriedly. "That way you can get some sleep and not have to worry about it."

"No, it's all right." Hermione said, making her voice sound stronger, but still small. "I have most of the things I'll need at my parent's house, and you can't come up to the girl's dorms anyways."

"Oh, right." Harry said, blushing slightly. "Well, go and get some sleep now anyways, and wake us up when you leave, all right?" The boy held Hermione's elbow and she couldn't recall him ever being so gentle with her. He walked with her the short distance to the stairs and then stopped.

"Thank you," Hermione said, unsmiling. She threw her arms around Harry like she had back in the tent before the first Task, hugging him tightly.

She felt awful for having to lie to them like this, but she'd been lying about so much this year, and she'd have to lie even more in the next few days, it was better to get it over with. Hopefully this would be the end of it all, and there wouldn't be any more sneaking around behind her friend's backs.

Back up in her dorm, the other girls had given her some space and were downstairs leaving the place empty. Hermione sighed with relief as she pulled her trunk our from under her bed. The few things she'd need this weekend were mostly a few things she'd had to keep hidden from her dorm-mates, and all things she'd had to order from a late-night delivery catalogue—that Draco had promised he would pay for out of his own pocket.

She started with the finally finished Polyjuice potion—enough for the whole week-end—in separated vials that she could slip into her drinks at any time without being noticed. Those went into the bottom of her suitcase, in a secret compartment just in case it was searched by Filch. Then she packed in the few bits and bobs she thought would come in handy at the party, and a couple of outfits fresh from Paris witch fashions, as well as a dress that would be for Saturday night. Lastly she piled her books on top, hiding all the clothes, and in the side pockets stuffed her few toiletries.

"Draco better appreciate all of this," Hermione grumbled, and then remembered that she hadn't gotten him a birthday present. "I'll just get something while I'm in London." She shrugged. What her parent's had really sent that morning was a normal letter telling her that they'd deposited her allowance into her Gringott's account like usual, and she could change the key or even take it out at any time, instead of simply saving it all without spending any for anything she wanted.

Suddenly, Hermione felt rather tired. She hadn't expected to actually sleep until late that night, but when she remembered the warning on the Instant Tears spell. _May cause drowsiness._ Why didn't she ever pay attention to warnings? She shut her suitcase and tucked the box back under her bed. Why should magic even have such useless side effects?

* * * * *

"Hermione, wake up, c'mon, Professor McGonagall is in the common room waiting for you." Ginny shook the girl, who opened her eyes and groaned.

"What time is it?" She mumbled.

"It's almost eight. You slept right through your alarm, or so that's what the other girls tell me. The Professor's here to escort you to the train."

"Ugh." Hermione dragged herself out of bed, barely remembering why she had to leaving for any reason. It took a moment to clear her head and figure out that she was dressed in her school uniform from last night.

"I-I must have passed out last night without noticing." She stammered.

"It's all right. I'm sure nobody will really notice, and you can always change on the train. Are you all packed?" Ginny asked.

The brunette nodded. "Bag's under my bed. I can get it, don't worry."

The younger girl looked at her concerned. "Are you sure you'll be all right, Hermione? The boys are waiting downstairs too, to say goodbye."

"I promise I won't start bawling again." She smiled weakly. "I just hate funerals. I wish I could bring you all with me, but since the whole family's being brought in and there wouldn't be room for everyone."

Ginny hugged the girl gently. "It's all right. We'll still be here when you get back. The final task isn't for a few months, so hopefully no one else will die in the two days you're away."

"Don't joke about things like that." Hermione scolded. "Remember who you're talking about."

When they got down to the Common Room, Hermione found that "the boys" didn't just mean Ron and Harry—both the twins were there too, and all of them looked a bit awkward.

"We don't really know what to say a times like this." George said.

Fred added. "We've never known a muggle who died. Or a muggle relative."

"How about you just say 'see you later?' Hermione suggested. "Professor, will there be something to eat on the train? I missed breakfast."

The woman merely nodded, then said. "Say you're goodbyes, you'll only be gone for two days, but for some reason your peers have made an event of it."

* * * * *

Hermione had no clue how she managed to get through the "goodbyes" without rolling her eyes, or laughing at how uncomfortable Ron acted, but she managed to stay solemn through the whole thing, and now she was on a shortened _Hogwarts Express_ heading towards London.

"I wonder if I'm actually breaking many rules with this little stunt. Technically I've only forged a note from my parents and sent it to Professor McGonagall so I could get out of the castle for a few days. I won't be casting any spells, and potion-taking isn't illegal. As long as I can keep up my French-accent, I should be safe."

There was a knock at her compartment door, and Hermione went to open it. "Percy, I didn't know you would be taking the train back to London as well."

He looked rather embarrassed for a moment, and Hermione guessed it was because he'd suggested Apparating to Mr. Crouch, who'd shot it down—probably while laughing. "I just came to ask that you send my respects to your family. I'm sorry for your loss. Also, it'll only be another hour before we're at the station, and that if you need anything once we're there, don't be afraid to ask."

"Thank you Percy, I'll be sure to ask if I need any help, though I don't think I'll have any trouble. My parents are busy receiving relatives so they can't come and pick me up, but they sent some money for me to take a taxi to my house."

The boy nodded and closed the door again. Hermione breathed deeply. _I wonder if lying to a member of the ministry would be considered illegal in this case. _She shook off the feeling with great difficulty. _I've been breaking rules for matters of life and death, and watched Harry and Ron break them for much less for the last four years, technically they can't expel you for this, so just relax would you?_

Hermione finally calmed down after changing into a simple black dress for mourning, and spending the rest of the train ride staring at the ring on her finger and swearing that she'd kill Draco for making her change her plans and start scheming for him instead of against him. _What was I thinking? Did going out with Victor make my brain completely melt my brain or something?_ She also swore to herself that once this year was over she'd never let herself get romantically involved with another boy again.

It didn't seem like a whole hour had passed when the train pulled into Platform 9 ¾ , but Hermione felt rather relieved when she saw the familiar place, though it had never been so empty as she'd seen it. She stepped off only after she watched Percy and Barty Crouch leave the platform, and instead of heading right out of the station once she stepped through the wall, she looked around for a bathroom. The whole place was emptier than she thought it would be, but Hermione was relieved instead of concerned because it meant she wouldn't have so many prying eyes.

Once she was alone in a stall with her suitcase, she dug out the first of her small bottles and opened it up. She'd already prepared for everything, and the dress was long enough so that it wouldn't be noticed much when she grew a few inches in height. "Rachelle" was basically the same measurements as Hermione, only a fraction taller. Taking a deep breath, she tipped the small vial into her mouth and swallowed without thinking about the taste.

_Okay, here it comes._ She thought nervously as she felt her body shift. _God I hope this is human hair, I'd hate to turn into half a cat again._


	14. Chapter 14

_What the hell do you buy the wizard who has everything, and everything he doesn't have his parent will get him anyways? _Hermione rumbled as she headed down the streets of London towards the _Leaky Cauldron_. Everything worth having in the wizarding world was already somewhere in Draco's possession, or would be soon thanks to his doting parents. _And like I'd be stupid enough to give him something from the Muggle world, yeah that'd go over great with his group. And worse, it's gotta be romantic, but thoughtful. Wait, Rachelle's kind of ditzy, would she give him something thoughtful?_ Hermione shook her head. One of her biggest worries was whether or not she could become friends with Draco after this was over.

Something in another store window caught her eye. Stopping to read the sign in the window beside the display that had caught her eye, Hermione read to herself out loud; " Yellow and white gold lockets, engravings available." _Well, I guess it couldn't hurt. I can even put a picture of Rachelle in it so it looks more realistic. _She stepped inside and walked out a few minutes later with a receipt, and a promise that the piece would be ready by the end of the business day.

_That saves me an exhaustingly long trip around Diagon alley and maybe even Knockturn alley._ The girl thought cheerfully, laughing while shaking her now long, straight black hair. Then she realised that she didn't really have anything to do for the rest of the day while she waited for the locket to be ready. _Well, maybe I'll get to my room at the Leaky Cauldron a bit early, and get some reading done. _It would be nice to get some reading done without having Victor looking over her shoulder or having to worry about Draco for a while. Hermione looked down at her watch. _It's almost noon, I should get something to eat and then I'll come back 'round five and pick up Draco's present. I don't have to take the Floo Network to the Three Broomsticks._ Turning into the door that Hermione knew muggles couldn't see, a bell rang as she stepped into the warm bar.

"Good day to you, young miss." Thee toothy bartender said with a grin. "Can I get you anything to drink or are you just passing through?"

_Okay, now time to test your acting skills. _Hermione smiled back and laughed the tinkly laugh she'd invented for this character. "Thank you, but I don't drink. I actually have a room reserved, under the name Maison?" She said in the French accent she'd also been practicing lately.

The bartender went behind the wall and came back with a large, dusty ledger. "Ah yes, you've got a single for tonight. I wasn't expecting you till a bit later, but the room's empty now, so it suits just fine. I'll send up something to eat if you'd like?" He asked, again smiling hugely.

"Some dinner would be lovely, just tell me the room number, I don't have any bags that I can't carry myself." She felt incredibly ditzy speaking in that high-pitched accent, but it was for the best that she act as little like herself as possible, since Hermione would have to convince almost all of the Slytherin house tomorrow.

"Name's Tom, just ring if you need anything else, Miss." The bartender said as he handed her a small silver key.

"I will, thank you. I'm not particular about food, Just be sure that it's hot and ready in twenty minutes." Hermione kept a straight face as she made her way up the stairs and down the hall to her room. It was nice enough, clean with a washbasin, vanity—and a squawking owl on the windowsill.

"Oh, you must be from Draco!" Hermione said smiling when she recognised the bird as the one she'd been corresponding with for the last few months. She petted him with one hand while the other took the thick envelope from his leg. When she'd first met the bird, he'd tried to bite her fingers off, but now he was accustomed to her touch, and seemed to enjoy the petting almost as much as Crookshanks did.

"Aren't you a good boy." She crooned, and looked around the room for something to give him. There was a small space beside the windowsill that held a small metal bowl with mesh covering and a lock. Using the key to her room, Hermione opened the lid to the bowl, revealing two separate parts, one for water and another which held some owl treats. After filling up on the treats and water, the owl took off.

_Might as well read what Draco sent this time, hopefully I don't have to send a reply today, I don't have an owl handy, since his just left in quite a hurry. He recognised my smell but not how I look I guess._ Hermione sat down and opened the envelope, out of which fell a small bag filled with gold coins. A note was attached to it that said "_For the room, and everything."_ Hermione added it all up in her head and the gold covered exactly everything she'd spent on him—the ingredients for the Polyjuice potion, the rooms at both the Leaky Caldron and the Three Broomsticks—everything except the locket, which he didn't know she was planning on getting him anyways.

The greeting in the letter itself made Hermione gasp. _How could Draco do it? He knew better than anyone the risks, and what could be more risky than this? You idiot!_ And yet something struck a chord in the girl when she re-read the greeting, and realised this was the first time he'd ever sent a single letter addressed to her by her real name.

_Dear Hermione, _

_I know that it's probably a bad idea to address this to you, but the envelope says 'Rachelle' so it can't be that bad, right? I just wanted to send one letter where I wasn't faking my feelings or lying about my life, so I could tell you how much the last few months have meant to me._

_I do this all the time, when I send letters to my father, I tell him that everything's fine, that I'm in a serious relationship with a pureblood witch in Slytherin, and that I have done nothing but uphold the family name the whole time. I tell my mother that I'm in love with Pansy, and that I might one day marry her, just to make her happy. I send you letters that say I am hopeless over some strange French witch who I've only ever corresponded to through these letters. I've never been sick of lying and cheating and sneaking around before, it came to me naturally and I thought that I would always be able to do it with a straight face. But I can't._

_You've helped me try to get back what was mine, but I don't know now if I want it. Bring back even one small part of my old life and you bring back everything, the lies, and the false emotions— going through the motions of being a person while forgetting to actually **be **a person. With you it's been easy to remember, and even though it all started with a stupid deal, I don't want it to end when these rings are gone._

_I'm not saying I'm in love with you. Don't get that idea at all! I mean, I want to be friends, and that's dangerous enough, without even imagining us as a couple—something I think we can both agree would be a bad idea. I know it would probably mean even more lying and secrets, just like we've both been doing, and like I've done my whole life._

_I think this is different though. Before I had to keep all my secrets to myself, and you must have things in your life you've felt you can't share with your so-called "friends" who don't even support your relationship whole-heartedly. During the time I've spent with you I've learned a lot about you, and I've felt at ease telling you about my life. I guess I'm asking if you feel the same way? Could we be the friends that keep each other's secrets? Could we be each other's secret? I think that would be the difference in my life that I need to grow up properly, having a real friend._

_Think about it, and answer me tomorrow night? I've already gotten permission from my father to hold a party at the Three Broomsticks, and he's agreed to pay for it, and I've invited all the Slytherins in our year._

_Sincerely, _

_Draco M._

_P.S. I know it's my birthday tomorrow, but I've got something for you later. Don't think of it as part of the 'deal' it's just a thank-you for everything outside what you said you'd do anyways._

When she finished reading, Hermione fell backwards onto the bed, closing her eyes tight, trying to sort through the feelings in her heart. Just four months ago Draco Malfoy was her hated enemy, now they were involved in some twisted form of partnership, after which he wanted to continue it as a friendship?

"_You've helped my try to get back what was mine, but I don't know now if I want it."_

He mentioned that the deal was still on at the end of the letter, but what did he plan on doing if not getting Pansy back?

"_Imagining us as a couple—something I think we can both agree would be a bad idea."_

Yes of course it would, Harry would probably flip and Ron would hunt Draco down like an animal—not that she'd thought about being a couple with Draco, it was just obvious common sense.

"_Could we be friends that keep each other's secrets? Could we be each other's secret?"_

That and the line about "real friends" made him sound like such a child, it made Hermione sad. He really hadn't had a normal childhood, no real friends, no unconditional love from his parents, and no wonder he'd turned into such a monster. Had she really made some kind of difference in Draco? There might actually be some good in him, and the girl felt that she'd seen glimpses of it over the months.

"_I'm not saying I'm in love with you. Don't get that Idea at all!"_

He wasn't saying it, but was he feeling it? What did _she_ feel? They'd gotten quite close sometimes, whispering things and keeping secrets, and laughing together, was it truly impossible that over the months she'd grown to care for him? When they'd gone a whole month without seeing each other, hadn't she looked more forward to the letters every night, even if they were all coded messages about business? Maybe not all of the, there were a few jokes thrown in sometimes, and Hermione always smiled when she read something funny about Victor, because even though Draco never said she shouldn't date the older boy, he did tease her sometimes, the way she'd wished Harry and Ron would, instead of getting angry and then later acting like it was nothing.

Lunch showed up while Hermione was still trying to figure everything out. She picked at her food even though she was actually starving, and tucked the letter into the same secret fold she kept the vials of potion in, taking one out and drinking it with her tea to drown out the taste. Hermione didn't know how the other girl tasted, and she didn't particularly want to find out.

After trying and failing to read and keep her mind off of the letter, Hermione got an idea. She grabbed a piece of parchment and quill. On it she wrote:

_I'm warning you I'm not used to writing poetry, but I thought this up and it seemed like the perfect way to tell you how I feel._

_I needed someone  
Someone that I can run  
To when I feel down  
You are that person for me  
I know no other  
We wonder what's meant to be  
And I think it's this  
I don't know why  
But I have this feeling  
That only you and I can see  
The light that shines when  
We are together  
My heart is telling me  
That though I'm scared to admit it  
You mean more to me than you think you do_

_This might be what they call love._

When she was done Hermione folded the parchment as small as she could get it, and stuck it into her pocket. She didn't know how she would give it to Draco, or even if she would. It would all depend on what happened tomorrow. She would of course want a friendship with Draco, but the girl couldn't do it without acknowledging the fact that she wanted more than just that. And if she couldn't give it to him in person from her, she'd make a speech as Rachelle and then she could let it off her chest that way and no one would be the wiser. Hopefully Draco was just dense enough not to see through it.

At five o' clock sharp Hermione headed to the shop she'd paid for the locket in, and smiled politely at the small odd man who pronounced that this was his "best work ever" and that Draco would "Forever cherish such a beautiful gift from such a pretty girl."

When he said this, Hermione remembered that she didn't look like herself, but the girl Draco had described as his "dream girl," so the compliment was rather hollow.

"Of course he'll act lovely to me, I'm his perfect woman." She muttered to herself as she almost sprinted back to the Leaky Cauldron, trying to hold back tears. Hermione left orders with Tom not to be woken up at nine and no later, but with only a knock at the door and demanding that no one enter her room to clean while she was sleeping. She asked that something be sent up for supper hot, and ready in twenty minutes, just like before.

Then she sat in front of the vanity, staring at the beautiful, regal-looking face of "rachelle Maison," with her blue eyes and raven black hair, straight as a pin that never dared frizz or curl. The thin face and high cheekbones were so different than Hermione's face, she began to cry again, feeling hopeless and ugly.

That night she dreamt she was an ugly duckling that had to sip from a magical pool to become a swan and stay that way every day. But the pool was draining away, soon she would be all out, and then the cold, beautiful male swan would laugh when he saw that she was just pretending to be pretty this whole time, when she was really just a grey and black duck.


	15. Chapter 15

"You can do this Hermione, just breathe." The girl inhaled deeply and let it all out in one big _whoosh_. She was upstairs in her room at the Three Broomsticks, waiting for Draco. _Maybe I should take the Polyjuice potion now, I don't have to wait for him to take it._ She thought, feeling very awkward wearing the party dress while still looking like her self instead of Rachelle. She was just about to give in to her cowardice and grab the vial waiting on the vanity of the room when there was a soft knock at the door.

"Hermione?" Draco's voice was nearly a whisper, but it made the girl's knees weak.

"Uhm, just a minute." She called out, cursing her high-pitched voice for revealing her nerves. She checked herself in the mirror, despairing that she definitely didn't have time to take the potion now while he was standing outside her door.

"Are you dressed?" He asked politely, reminding her for a moment of Victor—mature, courteous, stable Victor.

Hermione shook her head violently. Tonight was not about Victor, who was very nearly perfect to her only because he was just as much a stranger as a dream come true. _You can't love someone when you've only seen one side of them, and I never saw anything past the surface with Victor._ "Yes, come in." She said, clearing her throat and standing up straight. _You never cared this much before today, just relax._ She told herself.

The door opened and the force of Draco's hug knocked the breath out of her. Almost as quickly he let her go and took a step back, staring at the floor.

"S-sorry." The boy stuttered, wringing his hands nervously. "I just—did you read my letter?" He asked, suddenly looking up into her eyes intensely. "Because when you didn't reply, I thought maybe you—"

Hermione shut Draco up by throwing her arms around him in a hug just as tight as his had been. "Yes I got your letter, Draco." She said, "And I already knew most of what you'd put in it. But I do have one question."

"Ask away Hermione." The blond quickly looked her over, then frowned. The look distracted Hermione from actually asking what she'd meant to.

"Is something wrong?" She asked nervously.

"That dress doesn't suit you at all." He frowned again. "The color's all wrong, you look much better in pale but vibrant colors, this silver is awful on you, and it's too long for you. It just doesn't suit you."

Hermione smiled tightly. "It's not meant to suit me, it suits Rachelle, and it'll be her who everyone sees wearing it, remember?"

"Oh yes, I'd almost forgotten." Draco said, his eyes suddenly dark. "I guess my imagination got a little carried away with me. You and Rachelle are very different people." He said the last part with a smile, as if it were supposed to be a joke—but Hermione only saw disappointment in his eyes.

"Did you even read your letter?" Hermione asked seriously, gesturing to the small table for in room dining which was set with two chairs. "Tonight is about business, so let's focus on that, alright? I was going to ask how you wanted to play this; your letter confused me a bit."

Draco did well in reading her mood and sat in the chair nearest him. "I want to publicly end any chance of Pansy and I getting back together, she's using me for my money and my family and I won't have it."

"So how are you going to do that?" Hermione sat across from the boy, her eyebrow raised.

Draco smiled slyly. "I'm going to propose to Rachelle."

Hermione stood up from her chair, almost knocking it over. "What!?"

"Calm down, would you? Let me explain first before you have a fit." He was trying not to laugh, but the girl didn't see what was so funny. She sat back down cautiously and nodded for the blond to continue.

"At the dinner, when everyone's seated and waiting for devilishly handsome me to make his birthday toast," he waggled his eyebrows, grinning, and Hermione couldn't help but giggle. "I will make the pleasantries, thank you all for coming, blah blah blah. Then I hold out my hand to Rachelle and she takes it, and I announce our engagement before the entire Slytherin house."

"Still waiting for the part which explains why you're proposing to _my secret identity_." The girl snapped impatiently. "Is this some kind of joke like the rings? I swear that was only supposed to be for a laugh, I don't want to be Rachelle anymore!"

"You don't have to, we'll break up during the party after dinner. You dump me and humiliate me, and when I turn towards Pansy, she sees me as used goods and tells me to go rot."

Hermione's brows furrowed. "Sounds too good to be true, are you sure it's that simple?"

The blond laughed. "Pansy thinks she's hard to manipulate, but she's simple enough to figure out. It's just like you said, she wants to be envied, so she'll only go after things that others want. Without Rachelle I'm no longer the high-class prize, even with my money."

"I hope you're right." The girl said, standing up slowly. "The dinner's going to start soon right? You should go get dressed."

Draco smiled and held up an expensive leather suitcase. "I brought my clothes here, I can change in the bathroom, and we can greet everyone together."

"Um, okay." She said nervously. "Maybe you should shower quickly? It was a bit of a walk up here for you, so maybe you should freshen up." She really didn't want him to chance hearing her call out in pain from her bones and flesh stretching and pulling and settling in different places on her body, and Hermione hoped that running water would be enough to muffle the sound.

Draco nodded. "Sounds like a good idea, I'll do that." And he stepped into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

With another sigh, Hermione collapsed on the chair and waited till she heard the shower running. Then she went towards the vanity, grabbed the vial and drank the potion down. It was a double-dose, one that should last about two hours. Hopefully that was enough time to put Draco's plan into action.

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror as she changed, biting her lip to stop herself from groaning in pain. _This is the end._ She told herself. _I won't be Draco's dream girl ever again after tonight, but maybe I can try to be something else. If nothing else I can be his friend._

Once the transformation was changed, Hermione only kept looking in the mirror to attempt to perfect Rachelle's already-perfect hair and face. _I don't even need make-up with her, though of course I've got to put some on anyways._ The girl sighed, and got to applying the makeup to her beautiful face. A smoky-eye technique to accent the bright blue eyes, and a plum-coloured lipstick to stand against the creamy alabaster skin, and she was ready. She smiled in the mirror, trying to make it look natural, but no matter what Hermione tried, the familiar stranger staring back at her was still a stranger.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, trying to become Rachelle in her heart—at least for the night—but the sound of the bathroom door creaking open shocked Hermione out of her trance, and she stood up in surprise to face the showered and dressed Draco.

The only son of the Malfoy family looked just as handsome as he had the night of the Yule Ball—before getting punched in the face and dropped in the dirt, of course. All clean and trim as usual, in a magnificent black suit with silver cufflinks and a silver tie. He had his head down and was straightening this tie as he walked out.

"I guess I shouldn't have complained about the dress, it is a lucky coincidence that we'll be able to match, but not in a tacky tasteless way." When the boy looked up, his smile faded into a look of total awe. "Wow." He gasped.

Just then Hermione realised that he hadn't seen her as Rachelle yet, only the picture that they'd sent. "You look great." She said dully, not sure what else to say.

Draco seemed to be at the same loss for words. Instead he smiled goofily at her and then stared at his feet.

"Uh, maybe we should… head downstairs and prepare to welcome your guests?" The girl suggested, pointing towards the door.

The words seemed to bring Draco back to the current situation, and he went ahead of her to open the door. Hermione didn't mind that he didn't compliment her—she knew she looked beautiful—but rather felt relieved that he didn't say the words he obviously felt out loud. It was hard enough watching him look at Rachelle in a way no one had ever looked at her, even Victor. She blinked to shake off the feeling of worthlessness, and took the boy's proffered arm as they stepped out the door together. The moment she did, Hermione felt as if she'd _become_ Rachelle, and that she wouldn't have much trouble playing her part tonight. She tightened her grip on his arm and thought to herself; _I am Rachelle Maison, and I am the fiancé of Draco Malfoy. I am to be the envy of every girl alive at this party, and then I am to break this boy's heart, as if he had one to break. _

"Let's meet all your lovely friends." She tittered in her pre-prepared French accent, squeezing Draco's arm and smiling radiantly. She could feel the falseness of it in every pore in her body—not the accent, but the words, the smile, the feeling of excitement and love. Rachelle cared for Draco the same that Pansy had; for his money and heritage and looks. But she would be damned if she would show it, and she would be damned if she would lose to the sniveling twit.

Tonight she was Rachelle Maison, and though she didn't know how she'd do it, she knew that Draco Malfoy had to be humiliated by her hand tonight, and that would put to rest the vengeful side of Hermione Granger, fulfilling revenge on both Pansy and Draco, _may they rot together for all eternity._ The French socialite thought wickedly, as the first of the guests began to filter through the door and into the dining hall of the Three Broomsticks.

**AN:** Next Chapter will be done entirely in the POV of Draco Malfoy, and his thoughts, since Hermione will no longer be acting as herself, but litterally as "Rachelle." Please read and review!


	16. Chapter 16

I do not own Harry Potter!

Also, I hope you enjoy this chapter and the small amount of smut for now, because very soon we will be jumping ahead two or three years!

* * *

"How charming, this is your friend Pam Patykins?" Draco fought a snicker as the girl's eyes widened in anger but forced a smile and greeted her back.

"Pansy Parkinson, Madame Rachel." She said, refusing to say the name as Draco had often said it, all a-flutter.

The young woman beside him threw her hand up to her throat and laughed, a tinkly, light noise that made him think of china dishes clinking together and definitely _not_ of Hermione Granger, whom he knew very well to have a wholesome, hearty laugh that felt real and warm.

"_Mademoiselle_, you amuse me. I believe you must not know many of the French, we call only married women and those in their forties _Madame_, and I am certainly very obviously neither of those!" She tinkled again. "My amis call me _Mademoiselle Rachelle,_ as do my servants in Paris."

"I hope you can count me as a friend, Mademoiselle," Draco could almost see the unspoken words as text about Pansy's head; _because you're insane if you think you can count me as your servant._

"Now, since everyone's been introduced formally, let's get to dinner, shall we?" Draco interrupted the psychological catfight, much to his own dismay. He really must have gone soft, to stop such a good show and get on to business, so to speak. _Maybe this is why I didn't want to tell Hermione about my birthday,_ he thought. Not like this was really any better than the other birthdays he'd ever had, Draco had to admit that at the very least for a short time he might be able to relax and enjoy the party.

The blonde followed Pansy to the table, Rachelle close to his side. The dark haired beauty was basically everything Hermione wasn't, and everything Pansy wished she could be. Beautiful and powerful without trying, this was a woman who didn't need a man at her side to be in control, she was in control at all times, and never let anything that would push other people over the edge even touch her. She was the female version of Draco five months ago.

And somehow, he admired Rachelle, even if he definitely didn't envy her. Since she was so like he used to be it wasn't hard to imagine her as a real person and not just some figment of his and Hermione's imagination. If she had been real she could go far in life, and not need Draco for it, though it did make life easier to marry up instead of working her way up, and she had the cleverness to do so. She saved herself from the unpleasantness of humiliation and feeling things, or at the very least she would never let it show and give anyone the advantage of using it against her. This was something Draco had always aspired for, but now he was a different person, someone who felt things as they came and knew the pleasure and pain that came with them.

He had Hermione to thank for that, and turned to his side to say so when he was once again forced to remember the truth of the situation. The straight black hair, pale creamy skin and dark plum-colored lips were not the features that belonged to Draco's friend. Though he could easily admit Rachelle was beautiful, the boy found himself wishing Hermione could be at his side as herself, without prejudice and hatred—well the second she got anyways, at least from Pansy—and with the acceptance he'd finally learned.

It was true however that that was as impossible and dangerous as admitting that Draco had actually come to accept Hermione Granger as a proper witch for her talents and knowledge, even without wizard blood in her. A glint of light shone and he looked down to see the gold band on his finger with the inscription; _till debt do us part._ Another spell he'd never even heard of and probably never would, it was obviously an ancient magic and it impressed Draco even though he'd never say so.

Dinner was going splendidly, and the blond was just about to make a toast to announce his "engagement" when her heard and felt Rachelle stand up beside him and ask for the attention of her guests.

"This party I have put together to celebrate Draco Malfoy's fifteenth year living, so of course I have something very special to give him." She smiled dazzlingly at the crowd, and Draco felt a twinge of jealousy when he saw several boys looking at her appreciatively. Rachelle was his woman, and they all knew it! Did they think because Pansy the Slut left him for someone else he would let go of another one if they tried? He vowed to show them exactly how Draco kept a girl at his side.

Now Rachelle gestured to Draco, who stood smoothly and grasped the hand she held out to him. "To you from me darling, I hope you treasure it as much as I treasure you." Then she handed him a flat silver box with a green ribbon on it, which Draco let go of his lady's hand to slide off. Inside was a round white gold locket on a chain, and as he pulled it out he opened it. Out of it fell a tiny piece of folded paper into his hand, which he hid before anyone else could see. There was an inscription inside as well, and this he read aloud to the watching guests.

"Forever beside your heart as you have been beside mine." It seemed thoughtful but was actually ridiculously meaningless and pointless, which was exactly how Rachelle (or had Hermione been thinking of this when she'd bought it?) meant it to be. He looked into the girls eyes and for a second her disguise fell away and there was a question in Rachelle's blue eyes that came from Hermione. He knew that the note was what she really wanted to say, and he knew he would have to read that in private.

He held the locket out to her and turned around so she could clasp it for him, and when he turned to say thank you to Rachelle, he grabbed her by the back of the head and pulled her into such a passionate kiss Draco could feel the heat all the way to his toes—as well as the extreme jealousy the couple were getting for all over.

Even with the heat, and the pleasure Draco felt in knowing there were people jealous of him and jealous for him, he knew something was wrong. The kiss had been all heat and the only real passion had come from him, he felt only a partial reaction in the dark-haired goddess, and even her blue eyes looked at him with eyes that smoldered at the same time as remaining oddly cold like stone.

This was the price he paid for wanting a woman like Rachelle, and Draco was reminded what he actually had liked about Pansy when he'd first met her—she wasn't untouchable. She reacted like he'd hit with an anvil when they'd first kissed, and when they first made love—well, that was obvious enough. Incredibly easy to anger, Draco had actually enjoyed her rages of jealousy when he so much as looked at another woman, or when anyone else dared to compete with her. Now he didn't want to deal with someone so irrational and neither someone who was cold, Draco knew he wanted someone he could feel _with,_ not watch feel or simply make feel—unless he could feel it too.

_Business, this is about business, Hermione isn't being herself and you know that, she's Rachelle and I have to follow the plan._ The blond kicked himself mentally for getting distracted, and lifted his glass to the crowd to make a toast.

"To my birthday, to all of you, my guests, and to my wonderful hostess and fiancée!" He shouted, and down his glass to various sounds of shock and congratulations.

When Draco put down his now empty wineglass, he saw that Rachelle's usually cold dead eyes with only a shallow layer of emotion burned with fire and anger. He'd stolen her thunder, taken credit for her party and her work, and then announced their engagement without asking her first. He would pay, and Draco knew it. He counted on it, especially since he felt the same gaze of fury coming from one spot in the table where Pansy sat, glaring daggers into him. When she moved to glare at Rachelle however, he saw a flicker of confusion, and then suddenly she smirked slightly.

Dinner ended, and the guests stood as Madame Rosemerta cleared away the table and dishes with a sweep of her wand, leaving behind a clear dance floor. Before the dancing began, people came up to the couple of the hour to congratulate them on their engagement. Pansy Parkinson even stepped into line, though she made sure she was last in line, so that everyone would be watching her, since they couldn't start dancing until the hostess began with her partner.

"I am very happy for you Mademoiselle Rachelle, you must be very happy tonight that Draco has announced his plans to marry you." She never once looked at Draco, and he watched the scene unfold, as Rachelle's wall fell, and her hands shook with rage.

"If you will excuse me," she said loud enough for the rest of the guests to hear, her teeth clenched. "I must powder my nose. Feel free to begin dancing without me." Turning to Draco, she said with fake sweetness that barely masked her fury. "You too, darling, I'll be back shortly."

When she walked away, Pansy smirked at the whispers that had begun behind her, and daringly held out her arm to him. "Since she did say you should dance, would you dance with me once? I didn't bring a date myself, and I'd rather not sit out the first dance."

Draco took the girls hand politely, and they began to dance together, not too fast-paced, but not a slow song either. "So you didn't bring Mr. Meat-head with you?" He drawled, sounding surprised. "I thought you were each other's property now."

Pansy smiled. "You sound as if you actually pay attention to my life Draco, better not let your girlfriend hear that."

"I am not outside my rights to see what's right in front of me Pansy." He smiled back, for a moment letting his eyes slip down to her very revealing dress. Oh, but she'd planned this well. "She was rather surprised when I proposed at dinner, she hadn't known that I'd already asked her father for her hand."

"You are both very young." Pansy agreed, frowning slightly.

"She'll be of legal age in six months, and I in two years. Our parents have already consented to the marriage so we need not even be legal. She did not refuse me though, as she could have."

"She obviously didn't expect it, or if she did she expected it to be in private. But you're not a private person Draco, your life will always be in the spotlight, you will always be someone of interest and when you are you cannot do things privately." The girl purred, slipping her hands from the boy's shoulders to his chest, suddenly her eyes became very serious. "I left Yan, 'Mr. Meat-head' two days ago. Had hoped tonight I could apologize for being such a child, I wanted to prove that I could be better for your side, I'm not someone who demands to _be_ the spotlight, or to have certain parts of my life be kept hidden. I—"

"Stop Pansy," Draco said, as the song ended he grabbed her hands and separated them both. "stop embarrassing yourself for something you think you want. I'm not going to change my mind about Rachelle, and she won't refuse me. We want the same things, and she will be at my side."

"Fine!" Pansy hissed in a dangerous tone. "But don't think you can get away with kissing me at your fiancée's party!" this part she said louder and slapped him across the face, without much force but enough that he actually turned his head—to see Rachelle coming down the stairs, a look of horror and panic on her face.

The girl ran back up the stairs in a flash of silver, and Draco moved to follow, but he was interrupted when Pansy moved faster. Not that the plan definitely included Rachelle breaking up with him, Draco wondered if this was a good sign for the second part; getting rid of Pansy. Obviously the girl had set the stage for the breakup, but he wondered if it would be impossible to get rid of her now. He followed in hot pursuit, but when he got to the door of Rachelle's room, it was shut and locked.

"You had better get out of here right now." Draco heard the voice hiss, but it wasn't Rachelle's French accent, he was very sure he recognized the angry voice as Hermione's. Damn, why was she blowing her cover?

"Rachelle I am not leaving if you misunderstand me, I promise I didn't kiss him! I tried to refuse when he asked me to dance, but he'd heard that I broke up with my boyfriend and thought I wanted him back—he kissed me by force when I told him I wasn't interested in a man who was engaged!"

"You're the one who doesn't understand Pansy." Draco heard a soft _crack _and _pop_ and a groan of pain, and his eyes went wide as he realized Hermione had misplaced her Polyjuice Potion which she'd gone to take again when Pansy had asked him to dance. Their whole plan was about to be ruined!

"Wha—what in Merlin's name is going on?" Pansy sounded rather terrified as Hermione gasped in extreme pain, and Draco had the urge to break the door down to try and comfort Hermione, or at least get Pansy out of there before she could find out everything.

But the second he lifted his foot to kick, he heard pansy's gasp, and then shortly after, her laugh. "Oh, this is rich." She cackled. "What a game you've been playing on all of us." She laughed harder, cold and high.

"Please Pansy, I don't want Draco to get in here and—" Hermione said in a weak voice.

"Oh I bet you don't, so I'm going to tell you what you can do so that I don't tell your so-called boyfriend that he's dating a fraud. First, you're going to tell me what made you so delusional to think you could pull this off, you filthy mudblood." She spat out the last word and Draco was filled with fury that he assumed must have filled Potter and Weasley every time he'd used the damned word on Hermione.

"I-I wanted to get back at you, for trying to steal Victor from me." Hermione said in a defeated voice, and Draco breathed out a sigh of relief, which was caught in his throat with Hermione's next few words. "I had everything planned out from the Yule Ball, except falling in love with him."

Pansy laughed again. "And obviously he'd never love you back! You're nothing but a worthless, ugly mudblood, how dare you love Draco Malfoy? How dare you lie to him and pretend to be someone of worth? You'll never be anyone different than who you are Granger, and I'd suggest you leave Draco tonight, and maybe I'll be merciful and keep your little lie between us."

_Just agree and get out of there Hermione, get out of here and you can write me a damn letter, you can forget about keeping Pansy away from me, just save yourself and the deal is fulfilled._ He wanted to shout through the door, though obviously he couldn't. He had to keep his involvement with Hermione to a minimum if he wanted to ever be friends with her, to ever find out if she really had fallen in love with him.

"What if Draco was involved in the plan? What if he'd agreed to help me to humiliate you for breaking up with him? You'd have nothing against me then, you would have no way to threaten me if he knew already." _Damn Hermione, you've ruined us both, you won't survive this now._ Draco closed his eyes in despair.

"That's ridiculous; he would never team up with a mudblood like you." Pansy spat. "And if he had, he definitely will throw you aside the moment your deal is done and I've gone back to him, which would be a few minutes ago."

The blond could picture her smile, cruel and loving the feeling that she was ripping Hermione's heart out, but why was it that his chest hurt as if it was his? He couldn't stand listening to any more, and went back downstairs to his guest, most of whom were looking up curiously.

"Party's over, I'm afraid to say." He said coolly, "you may all leave and enjoy the rest of your weekend. Officially my engagement with Rachelle is at an end." There were more hurried whispers but with a glare from Draco the Slytherins made their way out out of the Three Broomsticks. Now all Draco had to deal with was Pansy, and then he could get on with his life.

He was just trying to figure out what that would entail when he heard footsteps behind him and saw Pansy walking down slowly.

"You sent the guests away, is the party over?" She asked, feigning ignorance.

"Rachelle is too proud a person to forgive me, and once she tells her father what you've told her, the engagement will be broken." Draco said, his jaw tight.

"Her Father, yes." Pansy smiled slyly. "How did you ask for her hand anyways? A letter perhaps by owl to him?"

"Yes, he responded earlier today in fact."

"I see. The handwriting didn't seem familiar to you at all?"

"What are you getting at Pansy?" Draco said, his eyes glinting. "You've ruined my engagement like you planned, can't you simply either take me back of leave me alone?"

"Oh I'll leave you alone Draco," Pansy assured him. "But only if you do me a favor first, and once you do it you'll never hear from little old me again."

"What do you want from me now?" Draco asked, impatient. _This was what he wanted, but why is she willing to just leave without me being as humiliated as she was?_

"I believe you have a girl upstairs who still deserves an apology. As far as she knows, you kissed another girl tonight, and you'd better damn well admit to it or I'll be on your tail the rest of your miserable life."

Draco's eyes became cold steel. "You're right, I do have to apologize to her. I owe her a huge apology for letting her within ten miles of you."

Pansy's face went a shade of very unattractive red, then forced herself to calm down. "I have one more question before I go Draco, and leave you to meet with your, ahem, 'girlfriend.'" Once again the evil gleam went into her eyes. "Do you love Rachelle?"

"What kind of question is that? I asked to marry her, and not under orders of my father, he doesn't order me around anymore." Draco said, wondering what Pansy was up to now.

"I'm asking if you are in love with the girl upstairs, to whom you have to apologize to, who left her purse at the dinner table when she went to powder her nose?" Pansy held out the small silver bag to the blond.

Oh, so this was how she'd do it. If Draco didn't know who Rachelle really was he would go up to meet the girl he loved and find Hermione Granger there, begging to be forgiven herself, which of course Draco would never do, and he would know that Pansy had known and would forever silently hold it over his head. If he _did_ know, she would have the insane pleasure of knowing that he was involved with a mudblood, and may even be in love with her. Pansy would use Draco's secret not to humiliate him and put him in danger with his father, but she would truly make his life miserable, and fearful of her.

Too bad Draco was finished with caring about what people thought when he didn't care about them as people. He didn't care about Pansy, and what he thought or what she could make other think didn't matter to him any more. He did care and Hermione, and he would damn well say so right now. To Pansy and then very soon to Hermione herself, he would be totally honest with them both and with himself.

"Yes, I love the girl upstairs, to whom I must apologize, and I will bring her purse and beg her to forgive me, proud as she is, and perhaps she will still have me." Draco said calmly, feeling power in the truth, feeling like a weight had lifted off of him. Without another word he stepped past Pansy and headed up the stairs, taking the purse from her as he did.

"You will be sorry you chose her Draco, I promise." The girl spat, making Draco pause and turn.

"No, I promise that you will be sorry, the mistake made was yours, if you think you can intimidate me. You are the one who has lost here." He continued up the stairs as he heard a sharp curse and the front entrance to the bar open and slam closed again.

Draco knocked softly on the door and then let himself in since it wasn't locked. Hermione was standing by the bed, packing up her small overnight bag. She'd changed out of the dress and was in a pair of black pants with a black sweater. Her hair was half pulled back so that the bangs were out of her face and the curls fell around her face that was a bit red.

"I heard you changing back." Draco said lamely, unsure of what else to say. "I didn't know it hurt so much."

Hermione shrugged. "It had to be done, to get the job done." She held up her left hand, palm facing her. "The job is done, I've fulfilled my part of the deal."

Draco was surprised. He thought both rings would disappear when they had both done their part of the deal, but his ring was still on. Of course Draco wanted to get rid of his still, and he was relieved Hermione's was gone; maybe she would let him replace it someday.

He was about to speak, to say he was sorry and tell her exactly what he felt and hope she hadn't been lying to Pansy when she'd said she'd fallen in love with him—when Hermione turned her hand around to stop him.

"Pansy promised me she'd leave you alone on the condition I never speak about how I made you fall for me through those letters, if you really did fall for Rachelle. Though I think more of that has to do with her looks, since she is your perfect woman."

Draco's eyes flew wide open at this admission and he crossed the distance between them. "You can't think I would want to be with someone that wasn't real, perfect or not. Especially if that meant you'd get hurt." Draco said seriously, taking hold of Hermione's shoulders. "If I had any idea you would be in such pain, I would never have suggested Rachelle come here in person." He did something shocking just then—he kissed Hermione on the forehead. "You are much more precious than my pride or Pansy or my reputation."

The girl had stiffened in his grip, but her forehead was warm and Draco felt her shoulders relax as he kissed her. Feeling encouraged, he slid his hands up to her neck and raised Hermione's head to kiss her on the mouth. She kissed him back, timidly at first and then with more heat as the boy held her close. She was so much more responsive now that she was herself, how Draco realized he had hated kissing Rachelle! How much he wished it had been Hermione all along, and that he'd found out sooner that he loved her, her and not some image of a woman who didn't feel anything a all.

But suddenly the warmth and joy that was Hermione Granger pulled away, her eyes full of tears and guilt. "I have to go Draco, there's just one thing I want you to do, and then your ring will disappear and you'll have your life back, without Pansy to worry about, or me."

"What are you talking about? You don't make me worry, you make me happy." Draco insisted, trying to look Hermione in the eyes, but she kept looking away from him. "I love you Hermione." He whispered, grasping her shoulders and kissing her again, this time pulling her body into his, feeling the bliss as her small body fit perfectly against his, the way her warmth filled every corer of his mind, and consumed every thought of anything that wasn't already her. The shock was bigger this time when Hermione pulled herself out of his grip and pushed him harshly away from her.

"Forget about me." She said, so softly he almost didn't hear it. But the desperation in her voice was clear. Finally she looked up into his confused eyes, hers filled with hurt and concern and—he was almost sure, but the way she'd pushed him away had him doubting it—love, they seemed to say something very different from the words ringing in the air around them. He wasn't sure if she meant what she said as she picked up her now completely filled bag and ran out of the room, leaving him behind, staring after her.

Only an instant passed before what she'd said and done completely registered, and Draco scrambled out of the room after Hermione, only to barely see the door close as she made her exit. He jumped the stairs four at a time and ran to open the door, instantly facing a wall of rain, and no sign of the girl.

"Hermione!" He called, nearly screaming out into the night. "Hermione!" he shouted again, stepping outside in his suit, soaking through and not giving a damn. "Hermione." The last time was barely a whisper, more like a moan of pain. There was an odd sound as a fat raindrop hit the gold band on Draco's finger and he looked back down on it. _How can I forget you if this ring will always remind me? _The boy thought hopelessly. He wished he'd never made the deal, wished he'd never fallen in love with the one witch who could destroy his very soul and he would deserve it for the things he'd done to her. But he did love her, and with or without the ring on his finger he vowed never to forget her.

He stood in the rain for another hour, staring out into the night—and he never noticed the gold band dissolve as every raindrop hit it, as if it were acid biting through the magical gold.

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	17. Chapter 17

Guess what? You can hate me all you want but this is the ending of my story. You may think it abrupt but I had this planned three chapters ago. We all know what happens in the rest of the story, so I couldn't continue to twist it around, I apologize. I hope you enjoyed my story, don't be afraid to review!

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She was soaked to the bone before even making it out of Hogsmead, but Hermione didn't care. The words Pansy had said were still echoing in her mind, as they rang with a truth she refused to believe.

"_Don't you understand? Draco was born to hate you, and one day, he'll be ordered to kill you. Don't think he'll hesitate for even a second."_

_"What do you mean he'll be ordered to kill me? There's no way, unless Voldemort returned, no one would make a kid kill somebody, it's crazy!"_

Choking on her own breath, on her own tears and the rain, Hermione pulled herself to a stop far enough away that Draco wouldn't be able to see her even if he tried to follow her. She heard a boy's face call out into the rain, but otherwise the street was silent. Hermione couldn't see him but she could guess the proper direction Draco was in, and she pulled her wand from a pocket in her cloak.

"This might just save your life, Draco." She whispered, _Mine too, if I'm lucky. _Concentrating on the last few months, she waved her wand and called out; "_obliterate!_" and watched the sparks fly and find their target in the rain. _Three people can keep a secret if two of them have had their memories modified._ Hermione thought bitterly, as she turned towards the castle to find and charm Pansy as well. Just before she reached the gates, she summoned all the letter to and from "Rachelle" and burned them to a crisp, even the rain didn't sputter out the small fire the balled up parchment created in midair. Hermione simply watched the flames, which burned as blue as Draco Malfoy's eyes.

_What he said:_

_"You're worthless, a filthy mudblood; I wouldn't be caught dead looking at your ugly face."_

_What she heard:_

_"Worthless… Mudblood… Ugly face."_

_"I love you, Hermione."_

_What she knew:_

_If he doesn't remember me, he won't die to protect me. I can protect myself. _


End file.
